Frozen Skyrim
by Masterless
Summary: The Dragonborn and the Snow Queen. An unorthodox pair that shouldn't be in the same realm together but find themselves in such a predicament. Where do they go from there without causing more damage to each other's sanity?
1. Elsa: The Queen's Endeavor(Prologue)

The piece of paper lies on the corner of her nightstand by her bed, ominously reminding her of this day and the business that she needs to attend to. Her bed lies on the other side of her spacious room, but with the weight the message carries, it always feels like the paper is within her hands and her eyes are still deciphering every word written on it. Part of her feels like she should never have broken the seal and opened the rolled up paper, but as the Queen of Arendelle, there will always be things that she won't be fond of doing but has to. This particular task is one of those things and what's even more encumbering about it is that it involves her dealing with the aftermath of a certain event not too long ago. Elsa truly wished that she would never have to delve into the past again, but that's just the child in her imploring miracles to happen. With how things have been in her life lately, a few more miracles wouldn't be out of the norm and it would be welcomed wholeheartedly, but alas, the duties of a Queen overcomes a child's wish.

"Queen Elsa," The warmth of Gerda's voice as well as the feeling of her own burgundy cloak draping over her shoulders broke Elsa out of her reverie, "are you alright?"

The answer should be simple enough since life in Arendelle is no longer about ostracizing herself from society. The gates are no longer closed and her rapport with her people is now filled with mirth and trust. Not to mention the biggest testament of her life being better than ever is her relationship with her sister. Anna and her are now close like they were when they were young and nothing can break that bond. Elsa would do anything to protect her and to ensure that their loving relationship stays the way it is, which is probably one of the main incentive she has for dealing with this issue that was presented to her less than a week ago; that and she is the Queen.

"I am, Gerda," Elsa responds while staring at her reflection on the mirror. She manages a smile as her brooch secures her cloak to her body. "Thank you for asking."

"Your Majesty if I may…" Elsa is more than able to decipher the look of concern etched on Gerda's face through the mirror. She doesn't wait for the sentence to be finished before speaking up.

"Gerda, please, you may at any time," To Elsa, proper etiquette isn't important when she is talking to people that is close to her. It is an unspoken fact that Gerda along with Kai have raised both Anna and Elsa after the tragedy of their parents' death, which is why Elsa finds it peculiar that Gerda would speak to her like she was another person addressing her as Queen Elsa, and not as the woman she raised. "You know that your words are always welcome."

"Very well. Elsa, if you don't want to attend you have other means to extend your presence."

"Send Kai or another representative is what you are insinuating, right?"

"You don't owe the Southern Isles anything, Elsa. Quite literally, it's the other way around."

There were a plethora of things Elsa wanted to say in regards to Gerda's words though a knock on the door quickly interrupted Elsa's thought process. Her head immediately turning towards the said door and not too long after a voice accompanies the knock.

"Elsa?"

The smile on Elsa's face broadens and Gerda is more than aware that this moment is more than needed. Nodding her head, Gerda walks towards the door and opens it to reveal none other than Anna waiting on the other side.

"Oh! I'm.. I'm sorry! Did I… I'm sorry! Can I come in?"

As always, Anna carries the exuberance in any mood that she is in. Nervous as she may be, her mind seems to still want to move faster than her words can form. Anna might be carefree and sometimes naïve, but she does have the uncanny ability to brighten things up. With a flagrant smile still etched in Gerda's face, she bows her head at Anna.

"No need for apologies, Princess, I was just on my way out," Gerda turns to Elsa just to give her salutation. "Whenever you are ready, your Majesty. Your ship awaits."

With those words, Elsa and Anna are alone behind the closed door of Elsa's room. In a normal circumstance there would be nothing but positive vibes and Anna's joyful personality that would be bombarding the room right now, but alas the ambiance is somber and definitely not the norm. Turning back to the mirror and observing herself, Elsa notices that her coronation dress is missing the vibrant teal glove that she used to wear with just about every outfit back then. Not that she has an intention on wearing them ever but it's something that she can't help but notice. There's no longer any need to conceal her powers anymore; all of that is in the past. Though as she found out a week ago, some things in the past are hard to bury and are harder to control than her powers.

"Do you have to go?"

Anna's voice is laced with disdain as much as her expression is. Strange, some odd years ago Elsa asked the same question to her parents and she too had that same concerned facial expression; the outcome of course was a tragic event that forever changed the lives of both sisters. Of course the loss of the King and Queen affected all of Arendelle but who would feel the most strife other than the daughters they left behind? Stuck in her thoughts about the past, Elsa slightly flinched as Anna's hand touched her shoulder. Anna's question still remains unanswered but the ominous echo of her words is something Elsa had answered long ago; such a tragedy is something she will fight ardently to prevent from happening again.

"Elsa, do you really have to-"

"Anna, you and I have discussed this already," Elsa's response is immediate and her tone of voice isn't by any means scolding but it is fortified with sternness, "I have to do this. I have to bury this past."

"It's my past too."

"I know, but they asked for the Queen of Arendelle personally. It would be behoove of us to remember that there are political matters attached with what Hans' did in our kingdom."

"His brothers asked for the Queen, but they forgot that they're also risking my Sister's safety!"

To Elsa, no other love is worth it other than the one that Anna has and continues to give her. Sisterhood is an undeniable love that Elsa has found to be more than adequate to keep herself busy in the aspect of 'love'. Why else would she ask for more at this moment? It's been almost a year since the events of the 'eternal winter' fiasco and the two have so much to retrace and so much to rebuild in regards to their relationship. The damage the years of solitude still reverberate within Elsa and so rebuilding is the only thing she has in mind and that means putting certain issues to rest. Complying with the summoning to speak on behalf of Arendelle in regards to Hans' crimes is part of the act of resolving the said issues, and by doing so would also mean that Anna is that much closer from being out of harm's way from Hans. With the thought of their sisterhood love in her mind, Elsa faces Anna with a warm smile and grabs her sister's hands and holds them gently. Anna immediately reciprocates the gesture and the warmth of her skin overshadows the _frozen_ grasp of Elsa's.

"I'll be back," Elsa's grip reaffirms when she said those words. "I owe it to you and to everyone else in Arendelle to come back."

It wasn't so much the words that Elsa managed to say, but the way she said it and the gesture of their hands together that evokes a faint smile from Anna. It may not be the zealous reaction that would be expected from the Princess of Arendelle, but for the first time in the last few days, Elsa was at least able to get some kind of positive reaction out of her. Something that Elsa is in dire need of seeing is Anna's jovial personality rather than the almost too sullen persona that she has been giving off.

"I know you will!" The optimist side of Anna is also something that Elsa welcomes wholeheartedly. "Besides, Kristoff and I have a lot of plans with ice delivering and everything else so being stuck in Arendelle as its temporary monarch isn't as fun so you better hurry back!"

Haste would be the only thing in Elsa's mind in regards to this business, but she knows it won't be the case. Still, Elsa can't help but giggle at Anna's pouting face, which is of course part of her sister's young minded personality. Despite Anna still the less adequate one to rule Arendelle, Elsa knows that the kingdom would be in good hands with Gerda and Kai guiding her; after all, they were a big factor to teaching Elsa how to properly attend to the duties of a queen. With that thought, Elsa forms a crown made out of ice, complete with the intricate patterns of her liking and a deep blue colored ice in the middle to properly announce her royalty. Taking it with both her hands as soon as it reached its tangible form, Elsa places it on her head, neatly acting as décor on her her hair and complimenting the snowflakes on her long braid. During the process of creating her jewelry, Anna watched avidly, still not entirely used to Elsa's ability to make such constructs on the whim. However a different expression dawns on Anna's face as Elsa puts the said crown on.

"What?" Elsa notices the peculiar look on her sister's face.

"Your usual clothing looks better than that one."

The 'usual' that Anna speaks of is none other than Elsa's elegant blue dress that is created from her imagination. It's more or less another one of her construct, as the dress is made of enchanted threads that are weaved through the replication of ice and snow. Anna uses the image of Elsa in her dress as a symbol of the rolling 'change' in their relationship. To see her back in her coronation outfit doesn't exactly have the same affect, but more or less a reminder of the times before. Elsa knows this, thus why she doesn't cock her eyebrow as a response, instead she keeps on smiling as she takes her sister's hand and starts walking towards the door.

"I'll be back soon enough to be in my usual attire," Elsa may be reassuring Anna, but for some reason, she herself needs to hear these words from her own mouth, "in the mean time, just try not to get Arendelle in too much trouble, okay Anna?"

"Oh of course I won't," Elsa's reassurance seemed to have done her magic for now since Anna's smile has the scintillation that warms any heart that sees it. The tone in her voice also concurs with the said expression. "And if I do, you'll be back soon enough to fix things!"

With an upbeat step, Anna skips ahead and exits the room. Elsa shakes her head at Anna's response before letting herself feel the happiness from the idea of leaving her beloved sister on a more positive note. With luck, the summoning will go quicker than Elsa predicts and she'll be back in Arendelle in no time. Things have gotten better and perhaps they will keep going that direction for her family. Though as soon as those thoughts crosses her mind, a strange sensation pervades from her chest and it causes a _very_ cold tingling up her spine. With eyes wide of shock, Elsa follows the feeling behind her and finds herself staring at the mirror. For a moment it seems normal with only her reflection conveying the peculiar feeling she just felt through her facial expression, but with a single blink, something changes. The face staring back at her is still her but an insidious version. The eyes are glowing with a deeper tint of blue and her grin insinuates far more sinister than Elsa can even muster. As if the distorted reflection isn't enough, the image moves and its hand reaches towards Elsa as if the reflection itself has life on its own. Appalled and confused, Elsa stumbles backwards and prepares to freeze back if needed, but she finds herself hitting the wall behind her causing her to flinch away from the said wall thinking it was something else. Realizing that there's no threat behind her, Elsa reverts her attention back towards the mirror expecting to see the altered reflection, but alas nothing but an image of herself with a very shaken and defensive stance. For a few moments Elsa stands there with her hands extended on both sides ready to conjure up anything that would help her situation. Her breathing echoes as she stares at her reflection as the adrenaline is still strong. Lost in translation and truly unable to come up with a reasonable cause for such an apparition to appear on her own image, Elsa starts to lower hands but still ready in case such a strange occurrence appears again.

"Elsa!" Anna's voice pierces Elsa's ears, calming her nerves somewhat. "Come on! The sooner you leave the sooner you'll get back!"

"Y-yeah!" Elsa replies, trying to sound as calm as she can. "Of course! I'll be right there!"

Shifting herself so that she won't have such a paranoid stance, Elsa gives one more glance at her mirror to find nothing amiss. Sighing, she dismisses it as some kind of trick her mind is playing with her due to the stress of the situation she is about to find herself in. What else could it be but that? While she may not know Hans' older brothers, she doesn't exactly have the best first impression of them due to their kin's mishap. Taking a deep breath and straightening her cloak, Elsa follows Anna and closes the door behind her letting the long hallway of her castle greet her with the full conviction of not giving the strange occurrence anymore thought.

"Just _let it go_." Elsa mutters under her breath as a final statement in regards to everything encumbering her. After it is all said and done, the burden of the paper that lies on her nightstand will no longer weigh her down.

**To Be Continued.**


	2. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen 0

I am Dragonborn. Dovahkiin. Legendary hero of Skyrim. Dragon in human form. The _ultimate_ Dragon slayer. It's not all the time that I have those ceremonial names accompanying my reputation. More often than not the people of Skyrim fear or loathe my existence, until of course I save them from some dire situation that usually involves something gargantuan like the beast I am chasing right now. The people of Morthal didn't exactly welcome me with open arms but they thanked their gods I was there the moment they spotted this frost dragon descend towards their pathetic excuse for a town. Part of me truly wished I had allowed it to snatch one of the guards, but I suppose even I have some kind of grace still dwelling inside of me.

But even the remaining grace I have left is dwindling with every interaction I have with the friendly folks of Skyrim. Still, I do it for redemption…

I shook that thought off as I shoot another bolt at its direction, eliciting a howl of pain from me attacking the same open wound. On any given day a dragon would fly higher to evade danger from below, but I made sure that when it gave me the required proximity with my blade that I struck vital areas of its wing-arm so that flight would be excruciatingly painful. Still, the distance between us does not exactly allow me to deal the damage I yearn to give it. Though judging from direction it is heading, Eldersblood Peak is the place it would attempt for refuge and the place that would give me the proper altitude I need to finally end this. Giving Arvak a slight nudge with my foot, the undead horse gallops forward with more speed, tearing through the snow with both its weight and the hellfire. It avoids the ruins and trees along our way as it concurs with my conviction of reaching the mountains before the beast. In the mean time I shoot the dragon again, causing it to stumble in flight while it roars.

"Even in **DEATH** Alduin mocks me!" I shout at the beast, taunting it, and with another bolt hitting it at the right area, I know it hears and feels my threat. "He leaves me legacies such as you! Worthless, flying excrement!" I shoot again and quickly reloading right after. "Your existence is a mere reminder for the people of Skyrim that you are entertainment for the Dragonborn! Your bones are for the giants to pillage for their tools! Accept reality, beast!" I shoot once more and watch intently as the bolt hits the beast at its belly. "You are a laughingstock! Your kin before and after you are all just scare tactics for children!"

My aim is absolute and the moment the last word was thrown, I press the trigger on Avarice and it took less than a few blinks before the crossbow does its damage, hitting the area where the 'arm' meets the body. The dragon falters again and it flies crookedly for a few moments before regaining some of its composure. Despite the dragon's built of having spikes cover its back and other random areas of its body, the bolts I have bombarded it sticks out like a sore thumb. An obvious answer as to why its flight is furthered hindered aside from the abysmal cut it gained from Muramasa earlier. While still howling in agonizing pain, the dragon alters its direction and makes an effort to descend towards me. Angry, in pain, and obviously desperate, the dragon is now trying to go back to its offensive, having been convinced that I was not going to relent on my attack. I want it dead... so let it come.

"That's it! You gained some of your fortitude!"

It opens its jaws and with an ear piercing shout, the dragon omits a breath of frost that would undoubtedly be fatal to anyone else but me, though I'm not exactly in the mood to feel that kind of pain right now and luckily Arvak agrees; feigning right, the trail of 'cold fire' destroys the ground not too far from me, leaving a trail of _frozen_ destruction behind the attack. Having missed me entirely and its tactic quite obvious, I turn my body and aim Avarice again and let loose as much bolts as I can as the dragon tries to regain some altitude. Four I was able to fire, but only three really did its damage. Though that would be good enough for me since I have gained the proper footing that I needed to end this before it even reaches its 'solace'… if that is even the word to call Eldersblood Peak; more like a tomb for the dumb beast. Managing to turn itself back towards the direction it was intending to go before I taunted it, it clumsily flies onward with me in lead. It tries to retaliate from my earlier assaults yet again by shouting projectiles of ice spears at my direction, which were easily evaded or hilariously deterred by the trees that Arvak is weaving through in zigzag like patterns. I half wanted to let out another gloat but refrained since I am near the mountain. Sheathing Avarice on its holster behind me, I concentrate on making sure I don't fall off Arvak since we are trekking higher on the mountains and soon enough, the path is too steep for even Arvak to travel on the same pace as he has the last few moments. Still, with the dragon faltering in flight, I have the proper lead that I needed to get pass the hurdle mountain rocks and gravity, and it doesn't take long until I am able to get to the proper area where the land is flat.

For a moment I take in the view of Lost Valkygg that can be seen in the distance. I suppose it can be considered a beautiful view, but that is quickly blocked by the brooding image of the frost dragon wailing towards me with its not so graceful flight path. Smirking slightly inside my helmet, I nudge Arvak to move forward towards the edge of the mountain where a certain death would meet anyone who would fall from its height and suffice to say, I'm not exactly planning on plummeting to my death. At least not alone… as the dragon charges forward, I take out Muramasa, grasping it with my right hand as the undead horse of mine meets the beast's pace. Finally seeing an advantage it has with the narrow space I am in, the dragon releases another breath of cold fire and its path is straight towards me, giving Arvak very little to no room to maneuver. Of course, there isn't much else I expected this beast to do in regards to his attack. With proper timing, I push off from Arvak, letting the conjured horse take the full wrath of the _frozen flame_. If this was any other mount that would've been a cruel tactic even for me, but at the very least Arvak can be summoned again at any time he is needed; right now, the battle takes to the air.

They say a Dragonborn's soul is that of a dragon trapped within the confines of a mortal body. There have been a handful of Dovahkiin's before me; I fought the eldest one some time ago apparently. He may have been the first but he wasn't the best; he was more or less an aberration of me. From what I have heard, every one before me all had different roles and points of view … though all of them have one thing in common with me: wings do not sprout from our backs willingly, at least not like this beast. But the lack of certain limbs or stature doesn't exactly go against me; I do posses some of their powers. A dragon's voice is malleable to my every whim… and for this case I need to rush forward faster than the wind. The distance between my assailant and I was great but not troublesome. The attention he gave decimating the area I was in gave me the proper momentum I needed to get this far, though to its credit, the beast is able to compose itself and notice that I am just above it and coming down with my blade in tow. It could evade and let me fall to my death, it could panic and let me cut through it and claim its soul, or it could do what it did and reposition itself so that it would be in maximum posture for a proper bellow of its frost breath. It got confident and as it slightly poises its head back with the curl of its neck, it accumulates as much as it can, its chest expanding for a few moments before it lunges its head forward and follows up with a howl of its frost heading straight towards me. Taking the hilt of Muramasa with both hands as I swing downwards, I push towards the beast with undeniable speed, meeting the trajectory of its attack in full glory with my own strike.

"I was right!" I meet the blistering cold air that this dragon omits which immediately slows down the speed of my fall. With Muramasa in front and glowing with power, I form an unintended shield that is more or less 'cutting' through the cold fire, keeping the majority of me safe from its attack. "You are a worthless excrement! You had the opportunity to escape with your life, and you choose to die! Don't you know? The cold doesn't bother me at all!"

The beast omits more of its frost with as much ferocity as it can as I remain in position with the same amount of tenacity in me. A standstill between a dragon's wrath and a dragon slayer's blade… the sight from below must be both intimidating and aspiring, but for anyone who has truly tried to stand obstinately in front of a dragon's shout as boldly as this probably never had the chance to tell the glory of how it feels. But I am Dragonborn. Dovahkiin. Alduin's bane and the **_hope_** for the pitiful people of Skyrim. With that thought in mind I push forward, gathering energy and shouting with fury, letting the power of my body, my sword, and my conviction take me towards my target. The stalemate ends and I gradually move towards the beast to its disdain. Struggling to maintain its position, the dragon's attack starts to dwindle in cruelty, and soon gravity takes over me as well, and with that and all the other factors that are helping me push towards its direction, the moment where the crimson blade meets its prey is now.

Darkness.

A warrior no matter his prowess will always blink at the moment of truth during his attack. For that moment of blackness, I barely hear the painful cry of the beast; I barely feel the friction, or for that moment, I am oblivious to my free fall. But soon the darkness dispersed and my eyes can catch the sight of half the dragon's face, and the rest of its body flailing aimlessly not too far away. I cut a path through it and now I am falling towards an unlikely lethal fall towards trees and dense snow. Though it would be an unfitting end for the Dragonborn to die falling; it would've been a far worse of a death if I didn't have a plan in suit for such a dare devil tactic. Luckily, I'm not one to die for such a maneuver. Taking a deep breath, I let out a whisper, one that I haven't uttered for some time now. The chilling energy surrounds me, swallowing my every form, and in a matter of moments, I become an ethereal being falling from the skies. It's a strange feeling falling from the sky in a spectral like form, though it's a better feeling than what I would feel if I hit the ground in a bloody, disheveled mess.

The moment of landing is of course opposite of what it would be if I were not in ethereal form. The feeling is best described as a spec of snow hitting the ground. No sound, no weight, no distortion, not a single thing was bothered the moment I landed. The trees remained still, the snow below me has no bearings of my arrival, and of course my body remains unscathed with such a fall. I slowly ease myself off the crouching position and into a standing posture, well aware of the carcass of the dragon falling not too far from me. The greater half somewhere, tumbling down the mountain behind me while the smaller half ironically landing close. It almost amazes me just how quick a dragon will turn from flesh to bones the moment of its death… and in those moments of its _decomposing_, the life force of the beast enters me in the form of energy in thread like flares. I feel the power… I feel strength… my vigor renewed… in these few moments, I take a deep breath and close my eyes. One of the few solace I take from being me: The Dragonborn. Every skull of a dragon is like a trophy I leave behind to remind the land that they are safe for a time; at least safe from these creatures since I do take pleasure in slaying them. As I prepare to sheathe my blade, something beyond the skull of the dragon piques my interest. Movements among the snow, silhouettes from the grave are walking towards a certain direction, almost as if some shepherd is herding them. It is told that when indulging in the whisper of becoming ethereal, one would be in the realm of both the living and the dead. This is where the apparitions of the past wander and perhaps this is also where communication would be more eloquent between the living and the dead. Though admittedly, I'm not one to converse with the dead since I have placed many in the said predicament. Though the blue shadows moving like draugs towards something does take kindly to my curiosity.

Intrigued, I take a few steps to follow them and it doesn't take long until I am shown the exact reason why they are gathering. An enchanting image… a clearer silhouette of a woman who seems to be manipulating snow with mere gestures of her hands to whatever shape and form she would want. With her left arm she creates a trail of snow to fly up… her right arm creating yet another… then with both hands, she creates the symbol of Skyrim in the sky! I stand there mystified and confused. I wasn't sure if I should stare at the symbol of my land or at the woman… though that decision is made for me when the construct of the said symbol turns red and shatters. It's in that moment I give my undivided attention towards the apparition responsible for the 'show'. The crowd that was following her are now blurred images that is red like how the Skyrim symbol was… if I look closely I could almost make out…

_'__Fear.'_

Anyone else would have flinched at the haunting tone the word carried as it pervaded from this silhouette. It is at that moment I realized that I have wasted enough of my time indulging in the archaic hauntings of Skyrim. Sheathing Muramasa, my ethereal form fades away and once again I am in the cold and harsh weather of Skyrim. Beyond the skull of the dead frost dragon lies no apparitions… no confusion... Makes me ponder why it is I would see that. Perhaps it is a testament that I should not delve into that whisper if I can help it. Shrugging my shoulder, I summon Arvak and jump into his back and take speed to wherever I should go. If that little ordeal was to mean something, I have chosen not to mind it. The definitive of the end of Skyrim has gotten very little 'awe' factors from me. This land and all its tribulation is no longer of my concern…

Only one thing really is of my concern…

Legendary hero of Skyrim? Hardly. The ultimate dragon slayer is a correct term.

I am Dragonborn after all. The wind is my plaything and the sky is my playground. If I am to be hated because I choose to treat my 'fate' as a game, then I suppose they should curse the gods for giving me the soul of the dragon.

**To Be Continued….**


	3. Elsa: The Demon from the Past

One can't blame Elsa for having glued her eyes on the waters since her ship left Arendelle. Though the whole entire journey has been more than serene, Elsa is more than aware that it could turn for the worse thus her paranoia. But even she knows that constantly staring out into the window of her quarters towards the open sea isn't exactly the best way to spend her time for a journey as demanding as this. Sighing to herself, Elsa walks towards her table and takes the roll of paper and gingerly unravels it. Part of her truly wishes that she never asked Gerda to fetch the said letter, though she knew that she needed to read it one more time for her own reasons.

_-Queen Elsa of Arendelle,_

_There are no words that I could say to truly convey just how much I regret not being the one to represent the southern isles on the day of your coronation. Because of my inadequacy for the occasion, my youngest brother committed a plethora of heinous crimes against you, your sister, and your kingdom. Though I am not a man without his honor and I would gladly swallow my pride just to gain some sort of rapport with you and Arendelle. To show a fraction of my sincere apology, I would ask you to speak your words and testify against my brother's crimes personally. You would do our kingdom a great honor by doing us this kind favor. We believe in justice, your Highness, and despite my love for my brother, I also believe that he must acknowledge the burden of his actions. _

_I'll be looking forward to your response._

_King Christian of the Southern Isles-_

For what seems like the hundredth time reading it since she broke the seal, Elsa can't shake the weight of the request from Hans' eldest brother. It may be cordial and polite but to Elsa, there is enough insinuation that it's a _must_ for her to attend. Whether it be the politics involved or perhaps it's the 'gut' feeling that Elsa has, she knows she has to go. Though despite those two factors, Elsa can't help but feel something rather peculiar about it; that certain 'something' is one she can't seem to decipher despite herself.

"Your Majesty," A royal guard knocks on her door, "the port is in sight."

"I'll be up there," Elsa responds with as much confidence in her voice. "Thank you."

Peeling her eyes away from the letter and placing it down, Elsa makes her way upstairs on the open where the strong scent of seawater greets her once more. The wind slightly carries her cloak behind her as she walks towards the ledge to get a glance at the port. Her destination is indeed in sight.

"How many of us would you like to accompany you, your Majesty?" A guard walks to her side bowing before he asked the question.

"None," Elsa responds with a smile while her eyes still staring at their destination, "I'll keep a conservative presence."

At first the guard isn't keen on leaving their Queen unprotected in an unknown land with a prince who caused enough trouble in Arendelle. Though Elsa makes her answer clear through her smile and with a slight show of what she was insinuating with an a bit of snow projecting from her hand.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine."

A Queen with the ability to fend for herself is a rare thing making the guard feel somewhat inadequate. Though it is part of the reason why Elsa is well loved because she would not put her people into unnecessary risk if she can avoid it. Being able to concoct her own set of guard made up of ice and snow is something she sees adequate for the situation and her guard respects it. Smiling back and bowing his head, he turns around and goes back to his duties leaving Elsa with the view of the open water and the destination in sight.

* * *

He remembers his cell. Every intricate details of his captivity are still fresh and all of his senses can still recall them on the whim. The cold chains around his wrists, the pungent smell of body wastes from the other prisoners, the acrid flavor of the water he received every time he thirsted, and the uncomfortable ground he slept on are the things he keeps in mind every time intimidation of the unknown factor of his goal seeps in. At one point he had it all before being a prisoner in his own kingdom. Power was in his grasp; his blade was so close to taking the Snow Queen's life! He had it! His plan had worked so efficiently and immaculately that he was going to be King of Arendelle, the one who would've saved Arendelle from destruction. His blade was right there and the moment would've been his.

_'Noooo!'_

Then that moment ended when he heard Anna's voice and the image of her jumping in between Elsa and his sword. His blade was _frozen_ and it broke into shards of ice before it even struck Anna. When the shockwave launched him, he felt his victory slip passed his grasp and he cursed himself for not having more efficiency.

_'The only frozen heart around here is yours!'_

Then the humiliation that followed after. Perhaps if he'd killed Anna himself the crown would've been his and the months of immeasurable humiliation would not be in his memory. But sometimes things happen for a reason as he recalls the moment when the mysterious stranger came before him when he was in his cell.

_'I surmise that they haven't given you the royal treatment that you have been accustomed to, am I right, Prince Hans?'_

Time had become obscure to Hans so being pestered during sleep didn't really irritate him like it used to. Sadly at that point, he has gotten used to his claustrophobic and dirty room and all the agony it entailed with it.

_'You're not one of the guards,'_ Hans responded with as much pride as he was known for. _'You here to finally tell me what my sentence is?'_

The mysterious visitor merely chuckled as he lowered the hood that was covering his face. At first Hans thought nothing of it since his vision must've been playing tricks on him. The lack of sunlight in one's eyes could do plenty to distort things including possibly seeing a man with skin of grey right in front of him. But the more Hans focuses, the more he is able to decipher that the man does indeed have grey skin. Along with that skin tone, there are other peculiar things about this man's face like his ears being pointier and his eyes have a distinct blood shot color to them, which Hans tried to disregard despite the uneasiness.

_'In some ways I am,' _The stranger's voice also had a peculiar tone to them. _'You have a bit of crimes to pay for, Prince Hans.'_

Hans stood up from his stone hard mattress and grabbed the bars of his cell and gave the stranger a burning glare.

_'Listen here! I've been rotting in this cell for…'_

_'Close to a year.' _The stranger finished his sentence nonchalantly with a grin plastered on his face. Even his teeth are not of the norm; they had a sharper, fang-like shape to them.

_'Close to a year? And my brothers haven't bothered with me?'_

_'They have had thoughts of you, Prince, but not to the extent that would hasten word to your fate. I'm afraid it is as you have feared: you are invisible to them.'_

Hans' reaction was obvious in both his gesture and his facial expression. While his brothers had never been his greatest support or allies, he was always under the impression that in the direst situation, blood will be the bond that will finally pull through and break walls that had been built between them. After all, the sisters of Arendelle pulled through despite the odds stacked against them. Alas, that fairy tale won't be the case for Hans. At that moment, Hans was more than aware of the political bickering between his eldest brother and four of his other brothers, and then his other siblings were off gallivanting in their own royal endeavors. That would make the youngest of the brothers almost unworthy of a thought; perhaps, he wasn't even a thought despite what the stranger uttered out of his mouth. Prisoner of his own kingdom and not one of his brothers had even attempted to personally admonish him.

_'You can sit here and wallow or make a destiny for yourself outside the shadows of your elder brothers.'_

For a few moments, Hans' attention was towards the ground; appalled and lost of any true words, Hans barely heard the words that this stranger said the first time. Then as he mused at what was given to him, the sound of guards coming perked his ears towards their direction. He wasn't entirely sure where the stranger stood in regards to being welcomed inside the dungeon. Perhaps he got permission, or he snuck in, truth to be told, this peculiar stranger was the first person Hans had a decent conversation with. The guards could've taken that moment away but to Hans' astonishment, the armored soldiers of the King were not in their usual posture. They marched mindlessly and stood by the stranger's side as if they were his personal guards.

_'Now is the time to make a choice, Prince Hans,' _The stranger's voice omitted a stronger sense of urgency than before. _'Make amends with your failure, or rot in prison expecting the best from your brothers.'_

_'You'll set me free just like that?'_

_'Just like that.'_

_'What's the catch?'_

The stranger snapped his fingers in response and one of the guards moved towards the cell door, which made Hans back away, slightly intimidated. Though there was no violent intent from the guard as all the guard was 'commanded' to do was to unlock the door. The moment the door swung open, Hans had the chance to take a glance at the guard who had a very blank look in his eyes as if he was possessed which made a lot of sense to how obedient Hans' former guards were being to a stranger. Immediately after pushing the said door open, the guard took a few steps back and was standing side to side with the stranger who remained stark still; his red like eyes observed Hans and was obviously awaiting for some kind of response.

_'The catch, you ask?' _The stranger spoke again. _'There's only one.'_

_'And what's that?' _Of course there's a catch and Hans raised a brow at what the said catch could be.

_'You have to have the stomach for some blood in your hands, little Prince.'_

For a moment Hans stood flabbergasted at such a statement. It was condescending as much as it was an aspersion towards him. Or perhaps this stranger didn't really know what Hans was willing to do for his freedom? With those thoughts in his mind, Hans gave a confident smirk and took a few steps towards the open door.

_'There is one more thing,' _The moment he was out the door and the stranger spoke, the same guard walked towards Hans and undid the shackles that were keeping his hands prisoner in front of him. _'I suppose you remember clearly why you were in prison?'_

_'You're asking me trick questions, aren't you?'_

_'I'm asking you if you still have the desire to be a King.'_

Perplexed but still intrigued, Hans stared at his strange new partner with renewed vigor. While many things are still a mystery, Hans knew that at least there were a few things that seemed to be promising for him. With the same pompous expression on his face, Hans replies.

_'If it takes bloodshed to be a King, then I'd gladly do it.'_

_'Good,' _The stranger turned his body so that he would be facing the exit of the dungeon. The guards followed his motion without any words, further confirming that he had some kind of enchantment that made them follow his every whim. _'Now follow me. We'll get you some armor, weapon, and then we can send a letter to the Queen of Arendelle so that we may get an audience with the Snow Queen.'_

Hans still remembers his reaction the moment this stranger he came to know as Gilaro brought up the 'Snow Queen'. The subject of Elsa brings more than enough emotions out of Hans that he was motionless, he stood in the middle of the dungeon, unable to utter a single word or even blink for that matter. Even as the days and weeks rolled by, Hans was never truly able to give the proper reactions to the myriad of things Gilaro and the men that he brought would say. They are foreigners to say the least, and for the most part, the information they shared with Hans were adequate but not enough to TRULY paint the full picture. Though he truly has no room to complain at the moment since they freed him, supplied him with weapons and armor, and not to mention they have allowed him to personally send the bait to Elsa. The time waiting and being around these foreigners of course hasn't been the best experience, but having condescending allies isn't exactly the worse experience Hans have had. Besides with the ship that Elsa is on now in sight.

"You know what you must do, correct?"

Hans grips the amulet in the palm of his hands and felt a surge of power emanating from it. An ebony crystal encased in a gold amulet no bigger than palm of his hand is a strange thing to conclude as one that will truly give him the ability to fight against someone who can control ice and snow on the whim. Though given what he has been shown through Gilaro's ability to charm guards, call forth elements, and summon unworldly creatures, Hans has to believe that Gilaro's gift would be able to ward off anything Elsa can concoct.

"Are your men ready to do their part?"

"Don't pretend that we haven't done this kind of thing before, little prince," Gilaro responds with some spite. "We will do our part for as long as you do yours."

Hans takes another moment to glance at the strange trinket given to him. Some time ago he would've told anyone that they are foolish for even believing in sorcery, tales of magical creatures, dragons, and so on but seeing what Elsa was capable of and then these foreigners and their capabilities and the strange world that they vaguely described to him… for Hans to not even consider the idea would be asinine especially when there seems to be a lot of things that would be to his benefit. Exacting revenge is one of those said benefits and that on its own is a good enough incentive.

"I know what I have to do," Hans retorts with as much confidence in his voice as he is feeling,"it's all I thought about while I rotted in that dungeon."

The words were simple but it served the purpose. With that said, Hans grips the amulet tightly as he watches Elsa's ship get closer to its destination while his other hand is resting pompously on the hilt of his sword as it remains sheathed on his waist. Perhaps there will be a time where he will be able to use it; he can only hope.

* * *

The docking process is always one of the longest parts for Elsa. The destination is in place and yet one isn't allowed to just step out because certain preparations have to be made. Part of her wishes she can just flaunt herself and use her own means to get to the said destination, but being conservative is what she must be. Arendelle might be used to seeing their Queen create ice and snow as pretty much anything she wishes for it to do, but to a 'neighboring' kingdom of the south it might be a different story altogether. Things are indeed no longer familiar. Visually, this part of the Southern Isles is already different from Arendelle; being one of the smaller islands that make up Christina's kingdom, Elsa is a bit taken back that it would be here that they would hold their trials and such. Though customs are different as well and Elsa can't think too much on those said difference since she has far more pressing issues to be contemplating on like how she would start her speech, how well she should articulate her words so that Hans' crimes will be felt, and of course just how much emotion she should put into her statements so she would be taken as a Queen and not as an emotionally scorned woman.

"Queen Elsa," An Arendelle Guard bows to her as she prepares to takes her few steps off the ship, "please let us accompany you."

With a pleasant smile, Elsa shakes her head, answering with the same reply as earlier when he had asked.

"I appreciate your concern, Marius, but I believe I'll have to decline as I did earlier."

"Your Majesty… y-you know my name?"

"You think I do not make an effort to know the brave men who serve me?" Elsa responds with the same smile as she stares at Marius' eyes. "That would be cold hearted and unfitting for a Queen. And forgive me if I'm mistaken, your eldest is also training to be one of my guards, correct?"

"Y-Yes… My Queen."

"Good. I'm honored to have him protect me one day."

"My Queen," Marius bows once more with a bit more exuberance to the way he shows his respect, "you are too kind."

Elsa nods her head and walks pass Marius letting her cloak decorate the path behind her. Straight ahead of her are two armored men who are obviously serving King Christian and most likely there to escort her to where she needs to go. Though before she took another step towards them, Elsa tilts her head so that she would have a view of Marius who still keeps his head low as a sign of respect.

"You don't need to feel guilty, Marius."

"Queen Elsa?"

"You volunteered to help find my sister and in turn you followed Hans into my ice castle," Marius' shock is written all over his face. He was one of the guards that followed Hans wholeheartedly in their attempt to 'rescue' Anna during the Eternal Winter and he remembers that event as if it just happened yesterday, and apparently so does Elsa. "You were serving Arendelle, and for that I thank you."

"Hans… deceived us all, Queen Elsa."

"He did. Now he is paying for his crimes."

"Indeed. Though you'll have to forgive me, my Queen, when I tell you that I'll only feel better once you tell the King of Southern Isles to give Hans a fitting punishment for his travesty."

All of Arendelle has the right to be furious at Hans. Of course Anna and Elsa have all the right to wish him death for what he has done. But the right to do something isn't always the right thing to do and for Elsa, she truly just wants to leave the past where it belongs. All she wants is to move forward and never look back at the times before and during the Eternal Winter ordeal. Though the other side of her; the _darker_ side of her concurs with Marius' conviction. That part of her _wishes_ she would be the one to execute him in ways no one has ever seen before.

_The reflection. The sinister look on her face as she reached out towards herself. The apparition. The darker side of her. The cold sensation that she felt as her reflection moved. _

"I will do my best."

Elsa shakes the reverie off and answered Marius with as much compassion as she can. With those words, she finally takes the last steps off of her ship and into the soil of a foreign land. Elsa isn't sure why but the gravity of stepping off of her own 'comfort' really sinks in in a way that is far more dramatic than she would like to admit. Though she quickly retains her composure for her escorts are now upon her ready to lead her to the business she came here to attend to.

"I am-"

"Queen Elsa," The guard of course would already know her name and he doesn't wait to even let her introduce herself, "follow me."

If Elsa was at all into her royalty as much as other monarchs were, this guard would've probably felt a bit colder in this bright summer day for the lack of respect in both the way he spoke and just the over all vibe he lets off. Though Elsa knows that her being here isn't about bickering with a disrespectful guard so she follows him without any words. Turning around one last time, Elsa notices that the other guard is staying by the ship as if making sure _nothing_ peculiar is happening inside Arendelle property; as if her soldiers would do anything to dishonor the Arendelle name, but precautions on King Christian's part isn't something Elsa would frown upon entirely, so she turns her head forward once again. For now she focuses on the route and the environment of this particular island. If she is able to put her mind away from the fact that she is here for a serious matter, Elsa could probably spend more time scrutinizing the details. It's something she finds enamoring. The moment they landed and docked, they were greeted by the greenery that can easily be seen through the clear waters of the shallow end. Walking on the bridge, Elsa takes a moment to peek downwards and smiles at the water as it meets the sand, and the sand meeting the main land where the greenery takes over. One can fathom that it would be a luscious tall green-filled island if it weren't for the man made modifications all over in the form of aesthetic land marks that the guard soon leads Elsa to.

"Beautiful," Elsa finally says as they come across a garden that has maze like patterns between the structures that are built around it. "Your land, it's beautiful."

The guard says nothing and Elsa half expected him to be as 'entertaining' as he has been. Shaking her head, Elsa decides to keep to studying the artwork of this land. The backdrop certainly does not meet the context of why Elsa is here in this meeting place; and speaking of meeting place, past the aesthetics of the garden's path, Elsa spots a structure, a gazebo of some sort big enough to house a few people for a formal meeting or fancy meals. A figure sits inside and Elsa can't help but feel something inside of her that beckons her to turn back. Taking a deep breath and admonishing herself for thinking like a child instead of a Queen, Elsa keeps moving forward as the guard quickens his pace and eventually walks to the side of the figure who is sitting on a royal chair; his back turned towards Elsa which she finds rather odd especially when her arrival is obviously known. One would think this meeting would have a lot more 'warm welcome' behind it considering the business they have to discuss. Trying not to give the lack of proper salutations anymore thought, Elsa stops just a few inches from the small steps leading to the main floor of the gazebo. Taking a deep breath after what seemed like for the hundredth time, Elsa bows her head to adhere to the notion of respect.

"I am Queen Elsa of Arendelle," Her voice almost squeaked at the first word. "I am here under King Christian's request."

"So proper, Elsa," The moment the person spoke, Elsa couldn't help but skip a heartbeat. It wasn't the person she expected to greet her. "And you're not wearing your fancy dress either. I'm flattered, you remembered what you were wearing the very first time we met."

"Hans….!"

His voice is all too recognizable to Elsa even before he stands and faces her. Elsa feels a very heavy drop in her stomach from the sight of the man whom she thought was behind bars and was ready to meet his sentence.

"Oh I know, I didn't reciprocate the sentiment by wearing what I wore the day of your coronation," Not that Elsa was paying attention to his attire until Hans mentioned it, but she notices something peculiar about the rustic leather armor he is wearing. It may be simple in design but to Elsa, it seems to be letting out a small but potent enough energy for her to feel. "But unlike you, the cold bothers me. I need to keep myself warm just in case… you lash out."

The few steps back she has taken doesn't completely deter the grime that Hans lets off every word he speaks. Narrowing her eyes as Hans takes his first small steps towards her, Elsa aims her right palm to her side and within seconds, the colossal form of 'Marshmallow' appears, ready to protect its creator. Hans stops in his tracks looking at the beast who steps in front of Elsa.

"Really? I've already beaten this one before, Elsa. You've had that long to practice and you still come up with the same thing?"

The haggard look Hans may have due to what Elsa assumes is from his months of captivity doesn't entirely concur with his pompous tone. Though Elsa is happy to oblige his request by summoning another beast that is identical to the first one she created.

"Is that enough for you, Hans?" While her beasts stands in front of her, Elsa makes it known that she is still willing to fight by letting her ice powers emanate from her bare hands. "I could create more, but I'd prefer if your brother would recognize you when I bring you back to him."

"Oh but that's just it Elsa," Hans' hand reaches for something and Elsa expected it to be the sword hanging on his waist, "I'm not in the mood to go back to prison. And you need a moment to enjoy the warm summer heat. Snow in July is just so clichéd!"

In his hand is some sort of trinket that seems to pose no threat. Though the moment it omits a glow, Elsa knew that it is more than what it seems so she acts and so does her constructs, yet the reaction is short lived as an unknown energy passes through her causing her to stumble back; it wasn't painful at all but somehow it distorted everything that Elsa is accustomed to in regards to her body; a strange feeling nonetheless but something she tries not to mind. Looking up at Hans who is still holding up the trinket, she points her right hand at his direction and…

"Nothing," Hans' word narrated what came out of her hand. "So it's true. These people hold powers beyond the mystery of your 'curse', Elsa."

Elsa gave very little attention to what Hans was saying as she finds herself staring at her hands that are not accumulating any ice. The appalling revelation doesn't stop there as she sees her constructs not moving and losing their form quickly due to the exposure from the sun. Then the aesthetic ice crown that adorns her head melts as well and drenches her hair leaving her even more disdained and utterly confused. With eyes wide of shock and fear, Elsa turns her attention back to Hans.

"W-What…? What have you…!?"

"Done to you?" With the situation to his favor, Hans decides to take a few more steps forward, walking pass the melting colossus that were once created to do him harm. "I'm not exactly sure really, but from what I was told it's magic that can take away your precious ice powers and it did."

In disbelief, Elsa tries fervently to make something with her hands. Normally with just a thought something ice and snow would respond; when in an emotional duress, her powers will react for her and create a storm around her, freeze the ground, or something, but alas nothing comes out. By now her hair is dripping wet from her 'crown' melting completely and her bodyguards are falling to pieces while Hans keeps advancing and his lone guard also made his move to take a few steps forward.

"This should be the part where you give up, Elsa. I can promise you that it will be easier that way."

The dread sinks in with every step Hans takes and it's pretty obvious through Elsa's expression that she understands the gamut of her predicament. Not entirely too keen on giving in to Hans, Elsa only has one true option prominent in her mind: to run. As fast as she can, Elsa turns and runs the opposite direction, back towards her ship where she can get some aid from her guards and journey back to Arendelle where perhaps Hans' enchantment won't have influence on her.

"This is the stupid way Elsa!"

Hans calls out which doesn't deter Elsa from pursuing her intent. As fast as her legs can take her, Elsa runs through the gardens, cursing what she once thought were aesthetically beautiful with the zigzag patterns and the intricate placing of the structures. With fear pulsing with every heartbeat, Elsa isn't able to comprehend her grounds and she stumbles and falls on her front. The pain she feels is immediate but she dares not lick her wound and as quickly as she can she gets up and continues running towards her ship. Thankfully the path wasn't 'long' and she paid close attention to her surroundings as the guard was leading her to the trap. The ship is in view and Elsa can take a small solace that at least she will have some help with her powers not present. Though the moment of reprieve is taken away as her eyes manage to catch the horror of the scene in front of her. Some of Elsa's royal guards are lying on the ground lifeless, bloody, and some even desecrated. Arrows sticking out of one as he lies on his back with eyes still wide open but his mouth no longer drawing breath, another one seemed to have had his throat cut as blood had stained the ground that he is lying on, there's another who seems to be missing part of his limbs and Elsa can only gather that the bloody arm and feet not too far away are his. There were more but Elsa can only take so much that she bothers not to scrutinize every gory detail. Completely appalled, Elsa takes a few steps back rather clumsily; her body still heavily influenced by the visceral scene that is laid out in front of her.

"Q-Qu..Queen….. El..sa…"

Amidst the fray of blood and gore, a movement catches Elsa's attention along with a voice that insinuates death. One of the guards is still alive even if hanging by a moment and as quickly as she can, Elsa runs to the guard. To her dismay, she soon realizes that it's none other than Marius.

"Marius?! Heavens… what… what happened here?!"

She lowers herself so that she can somehow find a way to save him with what little she knows on how to tend to someone. Though even with her minor knowledge, she knows that a gaping hole on his chest as big as the one he has bodes ill for survival. Any attempt she makes to move him or touch him will probably cause more agony and damage so she remains where she is despite wanting nothing more than to be able to do something for her fallen guard.

"P-Please… get… get.. out… of-"

While he can't fully speak, his eyes say it all. His concern for his Queen is still his priority despite the agonizing pain he is feeling. Elsa's eyes starts to water from a myriad of emotions rushing at her; her hands shaking frantically and her words unable to form before she can pin them down to speak. Then in a moment's notice, the image becomes even more mortifying as something strikes him right through his skull, ending his life immediately right in front of Elsa.

"Marius…!" An arrow with a dead on accuracy claimed his life and Elsa knows it. The said arrow still sticking out of his head as blood starts to drain out of his lifeless face. In denial, in shock, and absolutely petrified, Elsa calls his name one more time as tears starts to pour out of her eyes profusely.

"Easier meant you didn't have to get blood on you," Hans saunters forward with his guard behind him. "Lower your crossbow, we don't want to hurt the Queen remember?"

"Why…?" Barely able to make out the words, Elsa turns to Hans' direction who keeps the sardonic look on his face. Tears streaming down her cheeks, adding to the horrifying look of having blood in her face due to the shot from Hans' bodyguard that killed Marius mere moments ago. "WHY?!"

"The only thing you need to know is that you **_have_** to come with me."

"And…. If I… refuse?"

Like he is disappointed at a child, Hans shakes his head before replying. "Then I think my friends over there will have a lot of fun doing what they did here in Arendelle."

Hans gestures his head towards ship that was once Elsa's. A quick glance towards that direction, Elsa can see a group of people who are obviously responsible for this bloodshed. Their faces filled with glee from the dejecting sight that it almost made them inhuman from where Elsa is.

"And if you refuse," Hans crouches down so that his face would be leveled with Elsa, "I'll get you on that ship one way or another anyways and for the inconvenience, we'll make a detour to Arendelle so you can watch while we slaughter every person that are under your rule. And personally, I would like to see how Anna is doing."

**To. Be. Continued.**


	4. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen I

I'll admit to myself that I had nothing planned before this. Actually, if one can say that staying at Proudspire Manor and taking a gander at the collection of my armors and weapons displayed, and perhaps getting the chance to lie down for the first time in what seems like a long time as 'nothing', then that is what my day would've consisted of: _nothing_. I had no qualms with the idea of '_nothing'_ since lately it's been dragon after dragon, request after request, assassination after assassination, and some old face wanting to meet me for some peculiar reason. Life of a Dragonborn is what Kharjo would say at this moment and I would roll my eyes as a response. Though one can surmise that my life could be worse and I would say that being inside the Blue Palace with these noble-types just made it so.

"Welcome, Dragonborn," High Queen Elisif used to be so fragile in her role, but I suppose the years have been kind to her. I can't fathom just how much the Empire squeezed their fingers on her to get her to have some sort of command presence. "I speak for everyone when I say it is a fine day with you around. Thank you very much for coming in such short notice."

Such short notice she said. I bow my head slightly just to reciprocate the 'respect' that I need to somewhat uphold. Though her words doesn't necessarily reflect the ambiance I am feeling from her Housecarl Bolgeir Bearclaw who seems to be staring me down with as much intimidation as he can let off. There was more than enough times I wanted to react kindly to his demeanors that he has and continues to give me but Solitude happens to be one of the places I keep my wares and spoils; being wanted in one of the bigger houses that I own wouldn't be the best way to live even for me so with that I ignore him as I have in the past. Then again, this whole thing is an ignoring game to me since the rest of Elisif's company doesn't exactly suit well to my liking and the feelings are mutual. Falk Firebeard who is standing close to Elisif's side continues to whisper things in her ear as if to instruct her or perhaps spreading gossip about me while his eyes burning at my direction as his 'beard' name implies. I wouldn't mind piercing my blade into his gut for all the slander he has thrown at my direction.

"I am sure you are wondering why you were summoned, Dragonborn?" As soon as Falk peels his whispering lips away from her ears, Elisif speaks to me again.

"I guessed it had something to do with sweet rolls." I don't change my posture or my demeanor but such sarcasm evokes a subtle growl from Bolgeir. Again, I'm not his favorite person in Skyrim.

"That would be a lovely change, wouldn't it?" Pacifism tone from the High Queen as if trying to settle down her Housecarl through her words without saying so. "First and foremost I would like to personally congratulate you and extend my gratitude on slaying another Dragon that threatened Morthal a few days ago. The people of Skyrim always appreciate such valiant acts. You may have banished Alduin yet his kin still remains and your constant perseverance to slay these beasts is comforting as it is inspiring."

_Inspiring_ she says, _comforting_ she says. Sighing audibly through my helmet, I speak to respond to her ever so motivating speech.

"Do you get praise for sleeping, High Queen?" The tangent struck Elisif and everyone else rather oddly.

"Excuse me, Dragonborn?" Her words mirror the faces on Falk and Bolgeir.

"When you sleep, do you get congratulated? When you put a slice of venison in your mouth do your servants clap their hands? For every step you take does your Housecarl prance around like a jester? With every word you utter, does your steward sing exuberantly for hearing your voice?"

"What madness is this?!" Bolgier growls, cutting off Elisif. "Does your audacity know no bounds?!"

"Bolgeir, please." Like a dog on a collar, Bolgier slightly calms his posture at his Queen's words despite the 'growl' still evident in his face. If only he can see my grin under my helmet. "Dragonborn, I apologize if I do not see the point to your questions."

"Are my questions too difficult for the High Queen of Skyrim? Should I address this matter to your steward over there?"

Again the room tenses up and even Falk joins the show of anger through his fists clenching. Elisif on the other hand tries to adhere to the serene environment that she is trying to uphold.

"No, Dragonborn. I do not get any praise for any of those. Why do you ask?"

"To me slaying a dragon is the equivalent of you taking a step, eating, sleeping, and breathing. I do not _need_ nor _want_ your praise when clearly it's just a masquerade for the real reason why I am here. You need something from me, so say it without trying to cajole me. I would greatly appreciate it if you do not squander my time."

"That's it!" Bolgeir pulls his blade out of its sheathe causing the rest of the guards to change their stance. Their ambivalence taking a hold of them as they are unsure whether to concur with the Housecarl's abrupt decision or to wait for an order. My hand barely lingering towards Muramasa. "I will not stand by and listen to you insult our Queen! Watch your tongue or-"

"I am watching my tongue," I respond quickly. "If I spoke as I wanted to, you would've already been in pieces."

I have been calm even as his blade is pointed at my direction, though I remain vigilant with every soldier who has his hand on the hilt of his blade. I pay attention to Elisif's movements; I even notice Falk's posture trying desperately to signal Bolgier to stop. This could truly turn for the worse.

"Bolgier, I am angered as you are but you know what you must uphold!" Falk speaks finally. "We do not need anymore stains of blood on the walls or on the banners above us."

I take note of the said banners that are hanging proudly over the Queen. The symbol of Solitude: the Wolf. There was a time when I myself held true to this banner because of _what I was_… that was a long time ago. Times have changed and so have I. Speaking of changes, Bolgier finally makes his decision and sheathes his blade. The guards followed not too long after and once again we are back to the peaceful meeting as Elisif had planned from the beginning. Peaceful, minus the glaring eyes of both Bolgier and Falk.

"Would it be too much if I asked you to take your helmet off, Dragonborn?"

"Yes," That's not the first time she had asked me to do that and the response remains the same. "It would be too much."

"Very well," Taking a deep breath as if trying to calm herself down, Elisif continues. "The people of Skyrim are concerned with the rumors of Sigil Stones appearing once again. I do not think I need to lecture you on what Sigil Stones means two hundred years ago, Dragonborn?"

"I am aware. Though I have no time to travel to Kvatch and seek out a champion."

"I apologize if you misconstrued. No one is asking you to travel to Cyrodiil, we are only asking you to-"

I knew what the request entailed and obviously my sarcasm flew pass the High Queen.

"Close shut the jaws of Oblivion, correct?"

"If one appears and if that is what it must take, then I suppose that is what the people of Skyrim is asking you."

"The people of Skyrim," I scoff. "I have lived my destiny. Alduin is banished, dead in my eyes. He won't come frolicking this way for another lifetime. If some Daedric god wants to invade, isn't it time for another champion to rise up to the occasion?"

"Do you truly believe that your power was only meant for Alduin's exile? Can you not see the value of it past the world eater, Dragonborn?"

To me this has been a conversation I have had with my comrades. In fact, this is almost a mirror conversation that Serana and I had not too long ago and truthfully, it is getting on my nerves. As if people truly have the right to scrutinize my fate as if they are well aware of what it is. Shaking my head before shrugging my shoulder, I respond.

"When time permits I will take a gander at these Sigil Stone ordeals and see if there are any truths to them aside from attracting dragons. In the mean time, just pray to the nine or to whoever that another hero is born that would suit your needs since I am not that person," I let those words linger for a bit before finishing my sentence. "Nor do I care to be that person you all prayed and wished for. I have done my deeds and have saved far more people than any of your soldiers combined and for me, that's more than enough to take me off the list of being everyone's go-to distress reliever."

Turning around, I take a few steps towards the dual stairs that would soon lead me out of this place that I try my very best to avoid. Though before I am able to take the left stairs, Elisif speaks over the murmurs of her steward, Housecarl, and Thanes.

"You would truly abandon the need of many because of your own selfish desires?"

I remain still for a moment staring at the chandelier hanging on the ceiling with the light shining from the large window above it; the image of the said light adding a special affect to the idea that I truly need to walk away from this conversation. Almost like a sign of some sort. I should just walk away.

"The power of one man cannot save you all." And there I am trying to get the last word.

"No Dragonborn, he can't," The High Queen responds almost immediately. "But he can at least provide some hope for the people."

The Masque of Clavicus Vile hides the astonishment etched in my face as Elisif said those words. Perhaps Serana and the High Queen converse about me since that is almost verbatim of what Serana said to me some time ago? Doubtful. As it is the rumors of me sleeping with the Vampiress is an atrocious thing for anyone to indulge. As if it is a rumor. Then again it's half a rumor since the vampires, lady or man _does not _sleep. Shaking those thoughts off, I decide that taking this conversation a step further would not be in my best interest. I have already wasted enough time with enough pettiness and perpetuating it would only mean I am part of the problem so I descend down the stairs ignoring the next few words Bolgeir and Falk tells the High Queen. As I reach the bottom of the stairs the maid Erdi nods at me as I make way towards the door, probably thinking of another way of asking me to be her 'knight' or something, though I gave her no response back then as I won't today. My mind is set on taking my leave of this place. Pushing both doors open, I finally find myself back into the open air of Solitude. The sun blazing up high eliciting a cringe from me as I step out of the castle's protection and into the courtyard. Never was the biggest fan of daylight for a myriad of reasons. The guards turn their heads at my direction giving me slight acknowledgements despite two of them probably have less than respectable expressions about me underneath their helmets. Walking further into this detestable sunny day and finally exiting the castle grounds completely, I am greeted once again by the view of the larger houses of Solitude. The house I call home in Solitude, Proudpire Manor, stands as one of the taller buildings to my right along with the Bards College that is directly right next to it; yes I have a school as my neighbor, though they don't bother me. Then again, I don't stay at one place for a long duration since I am always travelling all across Skyrim for one reason or another so the neighbors are almost strangers to me. Though today it's going to be Proudspire Manor for the night. That is the place of my destination and I intend to take the stroll as calm and as serene as I can to try and alleviate the annoyance of the day.

Taking note of the children running through the long straight path, I slightly smile to myself as they hold their wooden swords and make pretend they are fighting. The girl and the boy clashing with their make believe weapons, laughing, and 'shouting'. They see me coming towards their way and they wave at me with glee; both the Nord and the Breton child completely unaware of what their parents gossip about me, which keeps their 'fantasy' about me alive. I am a hero of Skyrim and I will continue to be… at least that's what I think they tell their children. It's strange that they find nothing peculiar about an ebony clad man with a Daedra helmet as the 'savior' of Skyrim. With all the sincerity I can muster, I wave back to the children as I continue my stroll towards my house. Perhaps this will be a peaceful day.

Suddenly the sky lets out an ear-piercing scream and when my ebony mail starts to omit the black smoke of Boethiah's blessing, I am more than aware that it wasn't the sky that let out that sound. I already knew what did the moment I heard it, but I was hoping it wasn't so. The children already knew as well and they react accordingly. The Breton boy drops his play sword and screams as he runs towards his house. The Nord girl however stays despite the fear laced in her posture. She may be attentive of the Dragon that is flying towards Solitude's direction, but her eyes are on me. A silent cheer from a little girl who still sees me as a hero, I suppose. I stare at her for a few moments before her father scoops her up and runs for cover; brave little girl. While the adults scurry in fear, she would've stayed and watch the 'hero' act as she heard I would. The hero… what an odd title for me.

"Muramasa," I mutter more to myself than my blade. Who would talk to their blade anyways? "Our journey never ends, does it?"

With that said, I run towards the exit, passing my manor. There will be another time for frivolous tasks but as of right now the dragon is my main priority. For the soldiers of solitude who were tending to their daily tasks on the training ground, their weapons are also ready even though I know they are highly depending on me for this task. Lucky for them I don't think the dragon won't be interested in causing havoc in Solitude; the testament of my inner assumption is that it flies over us and doesn't even mind the arrows flying from the archers who of course don't hit it. I'm sure the soldiers are relieved of that, though for me, it's another 'must do' to absorb another soul. Convinced that I need to slay another dragon in the timespan of less than a day, I keep running. I could summon Arvak but not exactly fitting for an undead horse with so many of the normal folks around. With that said, I decide to take the faster way and jump over the ledge in front of the blacksmith's building and landing with finesse despite the sound of my ebony armor clanking rather loudly from the sudden impact. Taking off with speed, I pass Solitude's most famous market and its local bar until finally I find myself pushing the gates open not paying attention to the guards who are uttering a myriad of things; probably some blessing from one of the nines or some nonsensical cheer that would not benefit my cause. Finally being able to conjure Arvak, I quickly jump on his back and the moment I do, the undead horse gallops with speed that no other horse of Skyrim can match.

For the most part Arvak is keen to my needs so taking advantage of this perk, I load Avarice with a bolt for the long range battle that will most likely ensue. Taking the left on the road, Arvak and I pass Katla's Farm and continue through the bridge over East Company Warehouse, staying as close to the Dragon's trail as much as we can. The beast is taking no interest in landing and I can't fathom as to why. Dragons these days have had more than enough 'need' to terrorize and this one is not concurring to that pattern. Then another screeching wail breaks through the clear skies and another dragon flies pass me and towards the direction where the first one heads. I raise a brow under my helmet with this scenario. If I can get lucky with the two of them landing, I can once again debate with two dragons at the same time; it has been a while since that joy has come my way. Urging Arvak, we speed through once again, his fiery hooves leaving tracks of purple fire as he lets out a snort. Though through my experience, no matter how fast my steed will go, a dragon's flight will prove difficult to match so this will be a matter of chasing it down until the two of them finds an incentive to step foot into solid ground. Though as the chase goes on and I start to map out the beasts' route, I come to the disappointing realization that they are heading towards the area where Solitude Lighthouse stands and that leads to the ocean. Me chasing them through the vastness of the water won't end on my best interest for a few reasons. The dragons themselves are now well off into the distance anyway so perhaps they are just like the others who just wander, contemplating if they should follow what Alduin started or to be at peace like Paarthunax… It's a usual thought process whenever I find myself wasting time chasing a dragon and they just fly off into the distance.

Though remaining in that thought is completely deterred as a ship catches my attention that is docked close to the location of the Lighthouse. While it's not exactly odd for a ship to use this dock, I am more used to seeing ragged and worn down ships like the Dainty Sload instead of something so… regal and almost enchanted. As Arvak takes slow steps towards its direction, I am able to make out more of its structure and its banners…. Truly foreign. While I am not the most knowledgeable when it comes to Tamriel, I do know most of the symbols or at least will have a vague idea of its existence, and this ship with its flower like crest bordered by a snowflake of some sort is truly something I have not seen before. Though it's not a far-fetched notion that they are a new guild making their mark and it just so happens they picked Skyrim. Then a sound catches my attention completely. Something direr.

A strained string of a bow is released from its tension and an arrow makes it way towards me with the intent to kill. As quick as it came my way, I caught the arrow with the tip mere inches away from my face. Turning my full attention towards the one who shot it, I smirk and fired back with my crossbow; hitting the sneaking archer right on his head and watching him as he falls from his hiding place lifelessly.

"It's him!" As I have guessed, the archer wasn't alone. "It's really him!"

From the sound of the voice, the mercenary is an Argonian and he just gave me his location with the desperate warning. Or perhaps he is leading me to a trap, which is all the better. Regardless my whisper manages to see through the terrain and I am able to see a handful of auras that are reacting to the Argonian's warning. I can make out weapons being drawn as they prepare themselves while, others are starting to scatter, then there is a particular group running away… an odd color for an aura emanating from one of them… not like the others at all. _Strange_. With a gesture to Arvak, I ride forward and get to a vantage point where I am able to get a view of my assailants: A band of mercenaries and thieves who made the Lighthouse their headquarters of some sort. Their numbers are great and from the looks of it, the majority are staying to give me a fight while some are trying to retreat; eyes are gawking at my direction especially from … a captive… woman... she is the one with the strange aura.

"Do not let him pass!"

A mage commands as he steps in front of the captive, which of course the mercenaries comply with their weapons drawn and arrows starting to fly at my direction. Arvak stands on his hind legs and lets out a battle cry despite the arrows striking him; the said gesture is more or less an intimidation factor before he complies with my train of thought and that is to attack! With hooves digging into the snow, Arvak and I tread forward, avoiding the fray of arrows and destruction spells. To make things easier to reach my goal, I conjure a Familiar bathed in fire and a Seeker; immediately the two obeys with the wolf exploding when in range, sending a few of them in disarray, while the Seeker starts letting out its spells, which also sends their ranks in chaos. With Muramasa unsheathed, the red blade lets out a hungry glow as I reach my first enemy who was trying fervently to fire another arrow but my blade ended his attempt real quickly as well as his life. Arvak shifts himself to the right and evades a few attacks, but it also puts me open for some archers and with this in mind, I jump off Arvak, flipping to the right and letting the undead horse keep moving forward and right into the enemies. His undead flames sending some of them in frenzy as he rushes through their ranks. By now the close range fighters are upon me, a Khajiit tries with his dual blades but his speed doesn't exactly save him and it took less than two moves to plunge my blade through his leather armor. Using his dying body as a shield, an axe hacks at him, evoking a snarl of pain as his own comrade struck him. Shoving him away and sending him crashing to a couple of coming assailants; the next few are relentless with blades and blunt weapons swinging in all directions as if that tactic will have any sort of success. While the majority I merely push away with Muramasa, some just lack any real intent of hitting… they just swing their weapons and for that my blade _disarms_ them permanently.

"I've done it!" An Orc by the Lighthouse calls as his war hammer had created a crater on the ground. "I killed the Dragonborn's steed!"

There is some humor to take in this Orc's stupidity about the situation and I would entertain it by calling on the undead horse once more and watching his eyes widen as my steed tramples him with ease. While he might be bones and a sign of death, Arvak still has the muscle of a normal horse with immortality and strangely enough, he remembers everything that happens to him before he goes back to the plane of Soul Ciarn or _dies_; A bad way for the Orc to die as Arvak continues to stomp on him with his flaming hooves. The entertainment has to end however as another sword wielder comes charging in with his mind set on my death, though I respond with my own conviction as I drive my blade through his steel armor and immediately feeding Muramasa yet another soul.

"Deal with that atrocity!" The mage calls out again as the Seeker I have summoned are keeping most of the mages busy. "You kill that one and its doppelganger will die!"

The creatures are detestable in battle as they are in appearance; though when they fight by your side, it's very useful and it can cause enough strain even in the most adept mages. Having the ability to duplicate itself, I'd say it has done its fair share of damage with the decoration of mages on the ground who are either unable to utter another spell or close to death. The whole entire lot is actually adorned with carcasses, blood, and a trail of severed hands and arms thanks to my doing. With most of their numbers depleted, I can take a moment to feel their despair as mages, archers, and warriors are slowly losing their momentum of attack. Except for the fact that another bolt flies at my direction, which I barely avoided with a tilt of my head.

"He's just one man!" One of them calls. "There are more than a dozen of us!"

Either he is a complete fool and do not abide by the whole 'reputation-precedes-you' notion, or he has lived in a part of Tamriel where no news of the outside world comes to him. I might want to lean on innocence since he is holding his crossbow with such a pompous stance that I'm not entirely sure what else to think. His lips curved in a wicked grin and his green eyes has a slight glow to them that is strange to put my finger on…

"Hans you fool! Stay with the Queen and get out of here!" The Queen? The captive is a Queen? "We will cover you!"

The Dunmer Mage is for certain the one in charge of this concerto of Mercenaries so perhaps keeping him alive for information would be prudent unlike this one I just beheaded for a foolish attempt of a preemptive attack after that man with the red sideburns took a shot at me. The Queen he says… before she was forcefully ushered, she and I made eye contact… her eyes… whatever she was trying to say through the cloth that is stifling her voice….

A barrage of destruction spells coming right at me and it's in the moment of evasion I decide that I need to get to that woman… The Seeker follows my thought and causes another disarray in the mages' line giving me enough room to maneuver. With a shout that causes me to sprint faster than the wind, I aim to plunge my blade at that arrogant man named Hans who is forcing the captive to wherever they are intending to go with the Lighthouse compromised. Though the Dunmer is trying his best to make sure that a linear path will not be possible as he places a rune just before the moment of contact. Clever tactic and with my speed I almost stepped on it; but because of my speed I am able to feign to the side avoiding it but not completely. The gust of wind from my movement alarmed the rune and it lets out a shattering force that causes me to stumble slightly. The force had a wide enough trajectory that it causes Hans to falter a few steps forward, landing painfully on the ground and leaving the woman to fall on her side, a few feet away from him. Despite the shock that spell caused, the woman tries fervently to get to her feet. Of course with her hands bound behind her and that long cloak….

The cloak and the symbol on it… even from this far I can tell the design and the material is not Skyrim's… the floral insignia matches some of the ones I saw in the ship …

"Get her!"

"Gilaro that was a stupid move!"

I shook myself out of my reverie and immediately rush to the woman and pull her to her feet, ignoring her pleas through the gag as I shove her behind me. I gave myself too much time on thinking… gave them too much time to recover. Hans is now on his feet with his crossbow in his hands, the Dunmer Gilaro is holding his staff towards me, the rest of mercenaries are regrouping, surrounding us, and the ones who aren't bothering with me is hacking away at the Seeker as it pierces a Breton mage with one of its tentacle. Soon that Seeker will disperse and it will leave this woman and I to to fend off the rest of her captors.

"Uhununn uh uhnn... gnm Huhnh!"

I tilt my head so that I am giving the woman some attention as she tries to speak…. The Seeker is spent and I was mistaken in my previous thoughts: It's up to me to fend off her captors while she tries and let out nonsensical demands through the gag.

"He's just one man!" This Hans person reaffirms his stupidity as he speaks once again. "Why are you all standing around and gawking at him! He is getting in the way!"

"Then shoot him, pretty!" The Argonian with a mace and shield replies to my liking. "You just keep talking like you have something to actually help the situation."

"ENOUGH!"

"If your men are too scared, then…"

Hans doesn't finish his sentence because his finger pulls the trigger. The bolt is aimed right at my head and I have to admit in this moment where time slowed down this Hans has some accuracy and fortitude. Though he is as I have said he is stupid and stupidity deserves some admonishing. From the top of my lungs I shout with an Unrelenting Force and those who are in range are caught in its wake; suffice it to say, that bolt is no longer a threat as well as some of my assailants. Bodies flying like ragdolls, those who have enchantments on their armor are staggered, some mages are able to put up a ward to help aid them in their footing, but the result is affective and the enemies are once again left in a mess. The added perk to the result is that the annoying Hans is nowhere in the picture and is probably one of the few who took flight from the shout's power. The Dunmer Gilaro is still left, two mages, and about four more melee warriors. The battle is now over.

_A cold wind_.

A power surges behind me and I instinctively turn around with Muramasa ready but to my astonishment, the hostage is somehow glowing with an enchanted light. Somehow she had managed to rip her bindings off and the cloth over her mouth follows. Those eyes scintillating in an ice blue glow and with a gesture of her hand, the patterns on the lower part of her dress shines and from there the light pervades upward. Like magical snow is slithering up her form, her dress starts to change drastically and the dark toned attire vanishes. Her sleeves lets off a radiance as she flicks her wrists… her cloak disappears and is replaced by a transparent cape that is glamorously decorated by the same symbol I have seen on the banners of the boat…. I watched this whole thing… I actually found myself standing still for a moment… her face calm before she opens her eyes with a burning determination. For a moment we locked eyes again before I realize she was looking pass me and towards Gilaro's direction.

For some reason the enemies were also _frozen_ in place like I…

This is magic I have seen or felt before…. And with a swagger of her hips from left to right, she walks pass me… her fists glowing like the hailstorms of the highest mountains of Skyrim. Whoever she is or whatever she is… at this given moment, _that helpless girl is gone_.

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Elsa: The Storm Within

It wasn't too long ago when Elsa found her private room to be a place of solace for the journey she took. Not that her royal guards were an annoyance, it was just that there were certain emotions Elsa wanted to keep to herself since she does have to uphold a certain presence around her subjects. Though this room no longer has any sort of comfort for her since it is now her prison thanks to Hans and the vile men that he allied himself with. Having been forced to sit on her own chair through the use of ropes on her wrists and ankles, Elsa has no real way to look over her window and know what is going on outside her own ship or much more know where they are going. She is indeed as they have made her: a prisoner of her own ship.

Deciding that her breather should suffice for now, Elsa starts to work on her bonds again, straining herself against the vice like grip of the ropes that holds her hands hostage behind the chair. Elsa had given up on her ankles that are also tautly secured, focusing on her hands would probably gain her the proper freedom she needs to somehow find some comfort in this bleak situation. Yet just like before, writhing against the coarse ropes does nothing but agitate her and get nowhere closer to freedom. With that said, her struggling only lasted a few moments before she gives in, sulking on the chair with a defeated posture.

"Your Majesty," the sound of Hans' voice and the insulting knock on her door causes Elsa to focus her attention towards the said door, "may I come in?"

If Hans hadn't gagged her, Elsa would probably be yelling obscenities at his direction as he enters. Though of course having yelled through the cloth over her mouth for such a time now had rendered her voice hoarse as it is. Growling through the gag and glowering at his direction is probably the only thing she can do at the moment.

"I figured you could use something to drink while you sit comfortably on your throne, My Queen."

In his hand is a silver tray with two cups and a pitcher; Elsa can only wonder what is in the container, though anything to hydrate her would be gladly accepted. Watching him intently as he sets the items on a table nearby, Hans takes it upon himself to pour himself a drink and gulps it down right in front of her. With narrowed eyes, Elsa proceeds to talk through her gag with as much hatred as she can.

"This drink needs a bit of cold touch," Hans responds to Elsa's angry sounds coming from her gagged mouth. "It's a shame you can't have your ice powers right now. You'd ruin the plan."

When Hans' hands gets closer to her, Elsa jerks her head away, trying her best to avoid him despite it being hopeless. Again he shakes his head at her as if she is a child, which only makes her glare even more lethal.

"Are you not thirsty? Hard to drink with something over your mouth."

For a moment Elsa thinks about what Hans just said. Ambiguity is of course hardly a foreign thing given the situation, but swallowing her last ounce of pride for the sake of a little comfort would probably be the best choice. Sighing audibly through her gag, Elsa turns towards Hans without a sign of steering away from his reach. Of course the burning glare from her blue eyes doesn't subside and Hans joyously takes her expression in as he reaches around her head and starts to fiddle with the knot pressed on her nape.

"See, that wasn't so hard was it, your Majesty?"

The moment Elsa felt the cloth loosen, she immediately makes the effort of pushing the wad of cloth stuffed inside her mouth, thus freeing herself from the speech impediment. Quickly licking her lips and working her jaw out from such a strain, Elsa takes a few moments to breathe through her mouth, a comfort that had been taken from her for some time now.

"Drink," Hans draws the cup closer to Elsa's lips. "I think the journey is far from over, so best to keep our precious cargo alive and well. It's water, no need to look at me suspiciously."

Obviously trusting Hans is out of the question, but her thirst is encumbering. So with that thought, Elsa follows Hans' gesture and wraps her lips around the rim of the cup and the moment it's tilted, Elsa gladly takes in the water, taking solace in every gulp that is sating her thirst. Feeling the nourishment coursing down her throat, Elsa pulls away when she had her fill and turning her eyes away from Hans who is enjoying every moment of this humiliation. She wants no part of his victory so she gives him the dignity of facing the back of her head.

"Aw don't act like that, Elsa," cupping her chin, Hans forces the two of them to face eye to eye, "out of everyone you have and will meet, I'm probably going to be your best friend. So get used to-"

In midsentence, Hans managed to 'drink' some of the water Elsa spat on his face. She drank the majority, but somehow she knew it would be helpful to keep some for a situation such as this. Part of her truly enjoyed doing that act, but for the most part it's the best form of justice she can do at the moment.

"Those were good people you killed, you monster!" Elsa's voice is low despite the sharpness of her words.

"I didn't kill any of them," Finally wiping his face to his content, Hans faces Elsa with a bit more of a stern expression, "if you recall, I was chasing you the whole time. You can blame Gilaro and his men for that."

"You can't talk yourself from this mess, Hans! You're just a monster who doesn't deserve-"

"Who doesn't deserve what, Elsa, to live? Please! You had the chance to execute me, but instead you chose to listen to your sister's advice and just send me to my brothers."

"I didn't want your blood staining my kingdom."

"Staining?!" A burst of fake laughter echoed prior to Hans repeating Elsa's word. "You brought a blistering cold winter on your people! You instilled fear in their hearts and left your stupid sister to take care of your kingdom!"

"Don't you dare! Anna is not stupid!"

"Oh really? Gullibility is the first step to stupidity in my opinion especially for her age."

Elsa is more than able to conclude that the events on the day the Eternal Winter happened is shuffling through Hans' mind. Memories that still leave a stinging feeling inside of her which clearly shows through her facial expression.

"She wanted everything to be an open door," Hans continues, "then again, why wouldn't she wish for those things when her dear sister kept the doors shut even after the tragic death of the King and Queen."

The combination of the words and Hans' pompous expression is bringing Elsa in a fit of rage that is more than apparent by the little body language she is allowed. With her bound fists clenched tightly, the thoughts of what she would do if she had her powers starts to overflow in her mind: images of visceral punishment, the cathartic feelings the images brings, then of course the _need_ and _want_ to apply horrific torture on Hans are the things she has been trying to avoid. For the past few months since Arendelle has had peace, Elsa was able to withdraw herself from these spiteful emotions despite herself; but Hans has made it clear that perhaps she needs to quench those said emotions. Perhaps the only real freedom from her suppressed feelings is ending Hans' life in a cruel and painful way.

_The reflection of herself. The wicked smile. _

Gasping inwardly, Elsa pushes the thoughts away and digs deep inside of her for the inhibition that she has. Relaxing as much as she can despite her forced position, Elsa locks her eyes on Hans again, giving her the look of a Queen unhappy with a proposal given to her.

"You call Anna stupid and yet who spent the time in prison?" Almost immediately, Hans' confident smirk wavered. "I don't know how much time you spent there, but from what I can tell, you're still not happy. Still 13th in line.** Still not a King**. Anna and I had lived a happy and peaceful few months trying to rebuild what we lost. What have you done? Plotted revenge? Begged for power? How many letters did you send to different Queens to plead for someone to vouch for your innocence and your right as a victim of fear like that Duke? Let me guess, as much letters as you have sent me before my coronation when you were asking for an audience?"

Elsa's words had long broken the first layers of coolness Hans had; the testament of his wavering confidence is shown through his action of standing up and turning his back on her. The leather material of his gloves squeaking as he clenches his hands tightly into fists while he grits his teeth from pure anger; he takes a few moments before speaking again.

"You read all those letters?"

"Of course I did. I read everything and anything that was addressed to me even when I was a princess," the memories of her isolation pouring heavily as she speaks, "I read your letters. Some more than once…. You have a way with words… your penmanship is even astounding… but at the time I didn't even see Anna very much so why would I bother seeing a stranger? Thank heavens I didn't. The man behind the pen is a cruel, power hungry, murdering, _monster_."

The labeling is something Hans is used so that part didn't bother him. What does fluster him are Elsa's statements about his letters. Perhaps he is looking for things in her words that leans to his favor, or maybe he is misconstruing it all, but there seems to be something other than hatred in the way she expressed certain things. In that moment, Hans starts to loosen up his tensed up body as if really trying to delve into the idea that perhaps the past isn't dead.

"I could've helped you back then, Elsa. Out of anyone, I know isolation. I could've helped you cope with the loneliness. I could have helped you with your powers. To me it's a gift, not a curse, and I for one don't' believe that someone should be kept away with such gift."

"You didn't want to help me, Hans. You didn't want to help my sister! You didn't care about my kingdom! You wanted power! You wanted my hand because it gave you an opportunity that you were never going to get in your own kingdom! You wanted to use me just like you used Anna!"

By now Elsa's tone have reached a higher decibel that adheres to the weight of her words. At the same time her eyes are burning through the back of Hans' head.

"I guess you're right on that. Shame it can't be the other way," quickly wiping off the minor sympathy on his face as he turns around, Hans meets Elsa's eyes one again with renewed confidence that is obvious through his grin, "now I have power, and soon I'll have yours."

Leaning away as Hans draws closer, Elsa responds with as much venom as she can.

"You're not fooling anyone anymore, Hans. You don't have real power! I'm more than willing to gamble that you wouldn't be anything without these savages that you have allied yourself with! Without them, you'll still be that little boy wishing for the things that aren't meant for him! Stuck inside a cell rotting as he so deserves!"

Those blue eyes are full of bravery, her words are potent with conviction, and despite her inferior position, she still stands against him. This will not do and it's something Hans must rectify. With as much spite as he can give, Hans brings his left hand across Elsa's face, letting the sound of leather hitting bare flesh echo on the confined walls. Elsa's cry of pain reverberates along with the impact of his hand. With a force like that, Elsa finds her head turning completely to the other side, losing saliva in the process. While the burning sensation still throbbing on her cheek, Elsa slowly turns her attention back at Hans. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she glares at him as he stands with his hand still up in the air as if he just gave the killing blow. He may not have alleviated all of Elsa's fight, but he sure satisfied himself with that act.

"I have real power Elsa. Far more than you have at the moment."

"It's impressive, Hans," despite the pain, despite the risk of being struck again, Elsa doesn't waver. Her tone of voice still upholding her defiance. "Your powers to strike a woman who is helpless is indeed a sign of true power for a scoundrel like you."

Hans' expression then shifts into a stoic and eerie look that sends chills down Elsa's spine. That said feeling enhances when he starts to walk around her in a slow and ominous manner with his boots tapping the wooden floor with such a rhythm. As he makes his slow walk around her, Hans traces his hand on her hair causing her to flinch away, as if she could really get some distance from him. There are no words; there are only the simple and yet intimidating sounds of his footsteps that are almost going in sync with Elsa's nervous breathing. After what seemed like forever, Hans finally makes his way in front of her and once again locking gaze with her. This sickens Elsa as he is simply looking at her with something boiling in his mind. Part of her really doesn't know what his mind is thinking and that fear is confirmed when Hans leans closer and starts to fidget with her cloak. Struggling frantically, Elsa tries to push him away with her legs, but bound as they are to one of the chair legs, she isn't doing an adequate job at all.

"What… are you doing..?!"

Elsa's cloak had long been pressed against her back. Its regal form wrinkled from being between her weight and the chair while tautly secured by rope. Hans' fidgeting with it is causing more than enough questions in Elsa's head about what he is trying to do and not to mention that it's quite uncomfortable both in the aspect of _where_ his hands are and the fact that it is causing her to strain herself in ways that the ropes binding her won't let her; Her hips lifting up from the forced seated position and not exactly giving the easiest time to cope with the situation. Though after a few minutes of the ordeal, Hans manages to slip the cloak so that it would drape over the side of the chair giving Elsa the chance to slump back down. Catching her breath in a furious manner, Elsa maintains her glare at Hans direction who nonchalantly walks back behind her while clutching the end of her cloak that he worked so 'hard' to getting a hold of. When attaining the proper position he needs, Hans pulls the cloak over Elsa's face in an abrupt and violent manner that it forces her head back painfully on the chair. Though the pain is hardly the danger that Elsa has to face since the thick material of her cloak is now clogging her breathing as Hans presses it tightly and covering her whole entire face.

"Elsa," he leans his face towards her as he recites his words in a portentous tone, "if only you could have just seen that you and I could have done wonders together. Now I have to force everything on you… now I have to remind you that your every whim will be mine to control and you _will be powerless_ to stop me."

Hans' words don't register at all since Elsa is fighting fervently against him smothering her. Thrashing wildly with every bit of movement that she can, Elsa pulls against her bonds, screams against the impediment, her head moving side to side, doing everything that she can to alleviate Hans' cruel action. Is he going to choke the life out of her or is he merely proving a point? He seems to have the intent on ending her life now, as he gives no solace as the dreadful moments roll on by. Blackness greets her and the lack of air is starting to take its toll and Hans knows this as he keeps pulling the cloth back so hard that Elsa's facial features is almost seen through her cloak. A dark and sardonic grin is prominent in Hans' face as he looks over the hopeless victim who has no power against him.

"You know what I did while I rotted in prison?! I did a lot of thinking! And do you want to know what I came up with in my head?!I deserved more," Hans pulls the cloak tighter causing Elsa to struggle even more frantically despite it being detrimental, "_I deserve **MORE**_! And for you to just squander what you were given, gives me the right to your fate!"

Every second things are closing in, as if darkness itself is seeping into her lungs and making it hard for her to breathe, making it difficult to fight, proving it _almost_ impossible to keep her consciousness. Elsa's hands starts to relax and uncurl from her tightly clenched fists; her body sagging into the chair and unintentionally accepting its bondage.

It seems that Hans is proving a point by ending her life right now.

"What are you doing?"

The pressure on Elsa's face decreases and eventually stops the moment Hans hears the slithering voice of an Argonian. Without his force pulling on the cloak, it slides off of Elsa's face allowing her to breath again, which she does, breathing in as much air as she can while holding on to whatever consciousness is left. Hans on the other hand keeps a vigilant eye on the reptile looking being in front of him whose eyes are narrowed. Obviously his actions are not well received.

"The Queen needed some reminder of her place." Hans responds confidently.

"Do not take me for a fool, prince charming," The raspy and crackling voice more than conveys this Argonian's displeasure with the response; his tongue slithered with every syllable as he takes a few steps forward, "your words do not hold any sort of value to me."

"Then you pain me, friend. I thought you were here for a conversation."

Hans has come to realize that with their facial features being mostly that of reptilian, Argonians aren't known to be exude expressions as easily, though the narrowed eyes and the slight twitch of the horns on its jawline more than insinuates that Hans had pressed the wrong buttons with such a comment.

"Gilaro demands your presence. I'll keep a close eye on our prisoner."

Quickly fixing himself, Hans makes his way outside. Passing the Argonian, he gives Elsa one last glance and smiles at the sight of her still trying her best to regain herself from the ordeal. Her head hanging low and not even making eye contact; perhaps it's the fear that Hans could go over the line that makes her have such a defeated posture, or perhaps the sight of the reptile like guard, or maybe Hans did drain her of any defiance she had; regardless of the reason, Hans takes takes the sight as a victory and closes the door behind him. Once outside, Hans makes his way up the stairs and is greeted by the strangers he has come to somewhat call 'comrades'. To Hans, the said title is more or less something to keep things cordial with them. The lots of them are peculiar and definitely not commoners of these lands and also not very friendly to him. Men with cat like facial features, brute men that are green and bear fangs as sharp as bears, and of course sorcerers with the uncanny skill for destruction are people that are not very plausible in the world Hans and Elsa lives in. No matter how long the duration of his time around these strange beings, Hans will never get use to the fearsome powers and features they posses.

"Hans, over here."

Gilaro calls from the nose of the ship and Hans immediately makes his way towards the mage. Along the way he passes by Mabub, the Orc who towers him by almost half his height and twice his weight. The hulking warrior gives Hans no respect and bumps him on the way causing him to stumble quite a bit. A snicker is a response from the Orc as Hans glares at his direction. Regardless, Hans continues to makes his way towards the one person who has a small amount of a pleasant rapport with him.

"The Snow Queen is not to be harmed," Gilaro admonishes as Hans steps beside him. "Your petty need for vengeance will be your undoing."

"Elsa's fine. She just… needed to appreciate a breath of fresh air."

Gilaro's response is a stern hard glare, which Hans barely acknowledges. Seeing as it would be a wasted moment if the conversation continued, Gilaro holds the amulet that Hans used to depower Elsa towards the sky. Hans watches curiously as the jewelry glows but not like the way it did when he used it on Elsa; this time it has a deeper and far more potent energy emanating from it.

"_Bex faal Skuld_."

Right after the foreign words flowed from Gilaro's mouth, the amulet suddenly erupts in power that causes the ship to shake due to the shockwave. While Hans stumble from such a force, Gilaro somehow manages to keep his balance as he holds the amulet's chain with both hands as it continues to emanate a violent glow. A light that goes in sync with the amulet also appears and without any warning it rips a hole in front of them. First it was small but it gradually gets bigger and bigger, until finally it's a massive hole in the middle of the ocean. The volatile energy slithers from the said opening causing the waters below them to shake violently thus rocking the ship; the wind howls angrily, and the sky where the rift is forming is ominous and showing signs of harsh weather. Still trying to keep a stance, Hans watches as Gilaro recites those words one more time that evokes the amulet erupt in a fiercer glow.

"What exactly are you doing?!" Hans' voice barely carries through the roaring wind that surrounds them.

"I told you, prince," Gilaro's attention never leaves his incantations despite speaking to Hans, "I'm giving my share in making the prophecy of the Snow Queen come to life."

The words are still cryptic as the first time Hans heard them and of course no real answer is given. However the answer to the riddle isn't his first concern at the moment as he feels the ship starting to make its way forward towards the chasm in front of them. To someone who hasn't seen this, entering an enormous hole in the middle of the ocean is a daunting scenario especially when the hole is accompanied by hostile energy constantly flickering on its very shape. The only real comfort Hans can take is that he is able to make out another body of ocean on the other side; one that is obviously not the same one they are in.

"Put this on."

Hans turns to Gilaro's direction at the perfect moment as he is tossing the amulet. Frantically, Hans is able to catch it and cringes as it is still glowing and crackling with power.

It glows again and Hans extends his hand away in fear of its volatility. "Are you serious?! It just tore a hole in the middle of nowhere!"

"And that hole will burn you if you do not protect yourself."

Gilaro's grin accompanies his not so soothing words so Hans almost immediately complies by putting on the amulet. As soon as it hangs on his neck, the warmth from its power piercing through the protection of Hans' leather cuirass causes him to flinch.

"What about Elsa?"

"The prophecy will protect the Snow Queen."

"And what about you?" Hans tried his best to avoid the tone of caring. He really doesn't, but even he is well aware that this whole endeavor is a lost cause without Gilaro and his crew.

"We are the children of Skyrim. We were protected on our journey here as we will be on our way back to our mother land."

This world called 'Skyrim' has been mentioned more than once amongst the group and Hans never thought too much of it until now when a gate of energy is now upon him, blaring with every bit of strange and daunting power. Intimidated could be the best emotion to describe what he is feeling or perhaps even fear. Then again, why wouldn't one fear the situation, especially when the ship draws closer to it by the moment? Though the one thing he keeps prominent in his mind is his need to be in power; the prophecy of the Snow Queen can only be attained if the lines are crossed; at least its what is told of him.

* * *

_Bex faal skuld._

The words resounded in her head just like the energy coursing through her veins. At first she tried not to mind the strange ordeal since she is currently still trying to wrap her mind around the sight of a lizard like creature staring at her. Then with a curl of its lips that most likely symbolizes a smile, it speaks.

"Do you feel that?"

Though trying to ignore the feeling is futile since the energy hits her again and this time it is accompanied by the ship rocking violently; it seems that whatever was going on out there also has enough power to cause the ship to falter in stability.

"That, _your Majesty_ is the gate opening so that we can finally be home."

Elsa barely hears what her reptilian guard is saying since her attention is currently at the strange occurrences outside that is causing distortions all over. Straining through the ropes holding her to the chair, Elsa tries to look over the window and the sight of darker clouds and the violent body of water doesn't give her any sort of solace. Then the strange energy hits her again only this time with a sharp and painful surge causing her to squeal rather loudly. Her eyes shutting tightly as she tries and cope with the agony, though Elsa finds that doing so doesn't give her any sort of reprieve for unknown images starts to bombard her mind.

_A black beast letting out a cry that tears through her mind. Its snout is filled with a thousand sharp knives, its eyes as fearsome as the flames pouring out of its jaws. _

_Swords, axes, bows and arrows… bloodshed and the screams of people. _

_Villages pillaged, innocence taken, children watched as their parents are slain in front of them._

_Entities of unknown power. A gate ablaze opens and a man in armor… a face on his chest plate… he laughs and reaches towards her direction… _

_As the armored hand engulfs her, Elsa screams as loud as she can as the darkness becomes encumbering._

* * *

"How long are we staying in the lighthouse?"

"For as long as we need to."

Elsa tries to open her eyes but finds it incredibly difficult to do so. Her body feels like it was drained of all energy and even consciousness is hard to get a grip on.

"We can't stay too long! They say he travels here!"

"_He_?"

"The one who rides the wind and plays with the sky!"

There was one voice that is familiar to her but the rest aren't. The blood rushing to her head is making it even more difficult to regain some sort of bearing.

"She stirs."

Fluttering her eyes open, Elsa catches the sight of the snowy terrain moving as well as armored feet. The situation is quite clear: she is being carried over the shoulder; no doubt by one of Hans' biggest new ally.

"She'll be out for a bit yet. In the mean time, cease this foolishness and tall tales!"

"He…"

Consciousness slipping from Elsa's grasp once again and soon her eyes are unable to keep themselves open.

"….Dragon…"

Darkness starts to take over.

"….born…"

Soon Elsa is oblivious to the world and the darkness embraces her completely.

* * *

Ever since docking, Hans had kept the amulet around his neck as Gilaro had 'demanded' him to. While it serves to keep Elsa's powers at bay, it had also shown that it was capable of more than that; it tore a hole through the sky and somehow 'opened' a gate to another world; at least that is how Gilaro explained the scene to Hans. Then again, the Dunmer stated more than once that there are a lot of things Hans' mind won't be able to take in and as of right now, Hans is almost ready to believe the mage. In fact, the sight of a large winged beast flying by was more than enough to cause terror within Hans. But when a second one flew by, Hans found himself taking a few steps back and bumping into Mabub who was standing behind him and laughing at his action.

"Dragons," a mage of pale skin whispers towards Hans as Mabub walks off laughing, "they are going to be a common sight, prince charming. That little amulet won't save you."

The mage herself joins the Orc's laughter seeing how Hans' hand had somehow found its way around the amulet, clutching it like a child searching comfort from his favorite stuff toy. Huffing in humiliation, Hans releases the trinket and walks towards the lighthouse to look over Elsa; the one thing he knows he has control over at the moment. Of course the rest of Gilaro's men perpetuate their taunting of Hans who is still shaken up by the sight of two fabled beasts flying over his head.

"It's him!" A desperate cry causes Hans to turn towards the distance. "It's really him!"

The warning of an Argonian ally turned all of their attention his way and it brought alarm within all of them except Hans who is standing there confused at who they keep referring to with 'him'.

"Hans move!" Gilaro, who strikes Hans as calm and collected is also in a panic as he rushes to Hans side. "Take the Queen and _get out_ of here!"

"What is going-?"

"GO!"

Still baffled, Hans turns towards the direction of the lighthouse and complies with Gilaro's frantic demands. Meanwhile inside the lighthouse, Elsa hears the entire ruckus and with effort, sits herself up and watches as her guard runs out with his weapon in hand. The moment she woke up, confusion had become her companion and hearing the ruckus outside doesn't bring her any closer to calamity. Looking around, Elsa was hoping that something sharp was left behind so that she could work on cutting her wrists free of the rope, but even the thought of that task is quickly taken away as Hans enters and quickly goes over to her and cuts the ropes that are holding her ankles together. While Elsa isn't against the idea of having freedom that much closer to her, the frantic movement on Hans' part does strike her odd.

"_Hans what's going on?!_" Elsa's question as Hans roughly pulls her up on her feet comes out as: "Huhnh uuuhm'h guung un?!"

Though with the way Hans just pulls her towards the direction he intended to go made it quite obvious that even if Elsa isn't gagged he wouldn't have given her any attention. In fact the lack of gloating or even a steady eye contact proves that there is something amiss and the moment they step out of the lighthouse they find out why. Not too far away is an armored figured mounting what seems to be a horse in flames with purple fire. Some of Gilaro's men seem to truly know who this person is as they respond with a few steps backwards and preparing their weapons for an inevitable battle.

"What is that, a demon?"

Hans took Elsa's thought into words, as the man with the flaming horse seems to have horns on the helmet that adorns his head. Her eyes wide with both fear and desperation as the mysterious figure stands observing the lot of them.

"He's much worse than a demon," a mage responds with fear laced in his voice, "that's the Dragonborn!"

"Do not let him pass!"

Gilaro stands in front of Hans and Elsa and points his staff towards this person that evoked enough courage from his men to heed his words. To Elsa, the stranger is outnumbered by a lot and his chances of winning are very slim. Though as the arrows and the magic started flying his way, his supernatural steed merely stands on its hind legs and with that, he pushes forward towards suicide grounds.

"That fool, he's going to die a very painful death."

"Stop talking and get out!" Of course Gilaro isn't pleased with Hans' pompous attitude. Then again, neither is Elsa. "Take the Snow Queen and yourself as far away from him!"

"Where are am I supposed to go?"

"From here, it's up to our Lord to guide you."

As confused Hans is with those words, Elsa is of course lost in translation and VERY helpless with her predicament. Though her eyes never seem to want to peel away from the sight of the man who rides towards them. The confidence he lets off isn't just mere bravado as magic seems to be in his possession as well, evident by a wolf like creature surrounded in fire that appears from a portal he summoned; a little after that another strange being appears through the same means and before Elsa really manages to sink in what is happening, the fire wolf explodes sending a couple of Hans' allies in flames and running to gain some sort of relief, while some are badly burned or dead.

"GO!" Gilaro forms a magical shield that deflects an incoming attack. "We'll handle the seeker! GO NOW!"

Grunting through the cloth impeding her speech as Hans pulls her, Elsa tries her best to keep her eyes on the stranger who is now upon her captors with a strange red blade that is cutting through the ranks. Dismounting his steed and is now locked with the odds against him, he flows through the attacks and retaliating without remorse. Since getting off his horse, there are now three dead bodies lying down on the snow.

"Come on!"

Elsa nearly falls as Hans tugs on her arm with as much aggressiveness as he can muster. Though to some extent, his lack of consideration at the moment was needed since the entity that was summoned is causing havoc even by itself. As it let out shrieks, shockwaves omits from its tentacle filled mouth that the mages are barely able to ward off with their spells. Weaving through the enchanters defending them, Hans tries his best to gain as much footing away from the battleground but the unrelenting attack from summoned creature is giving enough hardships as it is. The retaliation of the mages are doing some good, but the moment it spawned a duplicate of itself, the trouble multiplies. The two lets out wailing sounds as they release a shockwave in sync with each other sending a couple mages flying.

"Deal with that atrocity!" As the situation gets direr, Gilaro tries his best to keep the morale alive by releasing a treacherous wave of fire that hits the creature, toppling it momentarily. "You kill that one and its doppelganger will die!"

A barrage of spells hits the two creatures that screech through the bombardment and yet the attacks merely served to infuriate them as they respond with the same ear piercing shockwave. Some of the mages falter from the retaliation while some endure with their magical shields. Gilaro's ward flickers as it absorbs the energy from their assailants causing Elsa to whimper as she and Hans stands behind the Dunmer's protection. The constant defensive tactic isn't serving to give Hans any sort of calamity and pushing Elsa to the side despite her muffled protest, Hans loads his crossbow and aims at the man in black armor. Elsa tries her best to thwart his attempt but the ropes holds her wrists tautly behind her and in a blink of an eye, Hans pulls on the trigger. Hans has accuracy and despite his prolonged time in prison, he was able to rekindle his skills in battle during his stay with the Skyrim natives that are getting slaughtered. But he knows he is different; he may be weak now but he will make a difference; Hans is destined for greater things. He has a destiny that had been held back by a myriad of things that are against him. With a sardonic grin, he watches as his bolt flies through the air unnoticed with the sole purpose of hitting this man in his head. Though the target merely tilts his head and the bolt misses him.

"He's just one man!" Hans angrily claims as he reloads his crossbow. "There are more than a dozen of us!"

"Hans you fool! Stay with the Queen and get out of here! We will cover you!"

Hans wanted to argue, but the sight of the man easily cutting the head off another warrior was more than enough to give him an incentive despite his pride. The sight was morbid and Elsa wanted to turn her eyes away as the headless body falls on the ground, but her freedom perhaps lies in a man who seems to be well adapted to the art of killing. Then the moment came when they finally lock eyes and for Elsa, despite the intricately designed helmet, she knows he is looking right at her. With her mouth gagged as it is, her eyes are her only means of communication. Though Gilaro's forces abruptly end that moment by stepping forward to unleash more spells at him. Hans pulls Elsa by her arm leaving the sounds of destruction and screams echoing behind them while he keeps his attention forward despite everything going on around them; perhaps with luck, he can actually get Elsa and himself out of here and fulfill whatever it is he is meant to do in this strange land and avoid this ebony demon.

"**_Wuld Nah Kest_**!"

The sound of a thundering shout nearly caused Elsa to stumble but Hans keeps her balance and continue to pull her along. Though something behind them explodes sending Elsa and Hans tumbling to the ground and away from each other. Without her hands to aid her, Elsa falls face first on the cold snow, her groan muffled by both her gag and the snow her face is planted on.

"Get her!"

"Gilaro that was a stupid move!"

From the sound of Hans' annoyance, he wasn't bothered by the shockwave that sent the two of them apart, at least not as much as Elsa. Not wanting to be at his mercy again, Elsa tries despite her lack of proper body movement to get back on her feet. Meanwhile Hans grabs his crossbow and watches in shock as the man in black armor grabs Elsa and aids her to her feet before turning his full attention back at who is left within Gilaro's forces; with the onslaught he caused, the majority of them are now either dead or maimed to the point of being inadequate. Meanwhile his summoned creature is still giving them some trouble, despite it now being hacked away and obviously near its end. Yelling a bunch of nonsensical muffles through her gag, Elsa manages to catch this man's attention, his head tilting slightly to look behind him. Elsa manages to catch more of the details of his strange horned helmet; the designs on the said helmet isn't just designs, in fact it's a face; the apparel on his head acts like a masque to intimidate as well as protect him from what Elsa can surmise. This moment of 'communication' is once again disrupted with Hans' who now aims his crossbow after some words traded with his own allies.

"**_FUS RO DAH_**!"

As soon as Hans pulled the trigger, the man lets loose his voice that came out as an unrelenting force that blows the majority Elsa's captor away. Unable to truly cover her ears, Elsa cowers away, stumbling backwards as the man's unusual attack using his voice created more than enough distortion. Then something within Elsa ignites and soon it becomes a familiar feeling that Elsa has been hoping to regain for a long time now since her captivity. Whatever the stranger did had caused the spell of the amulet to repel and Elsa rejoices and attends to the first task: freeze the ropes that had been restraining her wrists to the point that they become brittle and weak. Twisting her hands before finally pulling, the ropes shatter, finally giving Elsa the freedom. As quickly as she freed her hands, Elsa does the same to the cloth impeding her speech. Spitting out the rag stuffed in her mouth, Elsa's powers manifests itself with a single thought. Starting from her feet and working its way up, the enchanted ice glides up her form, changing her formal attire into the 'ice dress' and the symbol of the expression of her powers. Opening her eyes, she once again finds herself staring into the blank eyes of her 'savior's' masque; he and Gilaro's forces seems to be frozen in place by the process of her change in wardrobe. Looking pass the man in black armor, Elsa focuses all of her attention looking for Hans but he is nowhere to be found, but the sight of Gilaro is enough for Elsa to take her first few steps of vengeance. Her powers hissing as they surround her tightly closed fists.

"Restrain her!"

The mages raise their staves to comply to Gilaro's command but Elsa attacks first, raising her hand and pointing it their direction and commanding a wave of ice to slash their way. Honing all of her anger at Gilaro's direction, Elsa throws her hands at his vicinity; once again an angry form of ice follows her gesture, covering a mage that stands in front of Gilaro who attempted to thwart her attack.

"Those were good people!" Elsa screams as pushes both her hands forward, again the surrounding snow responding at her demand. "All of you murdered good people!"

Elsa releases another angry rebuttal in the form of ice that blasts more of her former captors. Unable to truly defend themselves properly from Elsa's sudden outbursts, Gilaro's men fall one after another and one particular one faces the painful death of being impaled by ice that Elsa's rage had formed. Blood splattering on the snow-white ground and it was in this moment that Elsa managed grab hold of her senses and halts her reactions. Amidst that chaos and the retaliation, Elsa can now have a full vision of frozen bodies that are most likely dead, one or two fatally wounded and near death due to the spikes made of ice, and those who aren't mortally injured are now frantically trying to crawl away from the sight of Elsa.

"W-What…? What have I _done_?"

Appalled at the results, Elsa stares at her hands that are still glowing violently and it took some effort to calm her powers down. Trembling, Elsa takes a few steps back with her head shaking as if trying to deny what was done. Every step she takes, the snow beneath her starts to react accordingly, erupting in angry shards that are as sharp as the ones that took the lives of a couple of her captors.

"No… no…!"

Oblivious to the fact that Gilaro and the last mage managed to recuperate, Elsa is completely exposed to the lightning that they throw her way. As the energy slithers through the air, a blur of darkness stands in the way and deters the destruction the lightning attack would have done.

"I don't know who you are or how you are able to manipulate that kind of destruction magic," the man in black had somehow managed to summon a golden shield that protected her, "but I suggest you keep doing it or stand aside so you're not a target."

The shield he holds disappears allowing him to hold his crimson blade with both hands, preparing to end the battle with no doubt more bloodshed. Reluctant to continue, Elsa looks at her hands once more that are still shaking from what she has done and how her powers reacted to her anger.

_"I will do my best." _

The last words of Marius echoes in Elsa's mind and followed by the sight of his mangled face as his last breath was still dedicated to protecting his Queen. Clenching her hands into fists, her ice powers emerge once again. Narrowing her eyes at her surviving captors, the storm inside of her erupts, surrounding her in a blizzard that signifies the unquenched need for vengeance. A dire need for the Queen of Arendelle to accomplish for the people that she lost.

**To. Be. Continued.**


	6. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen II

The moment I felt her power, I knew there was something about her magic. The way she controlled ice and made them do her bidding was something that no one in Skyrim has done before. It was almost like the ice was a snake slithering through the air with such prowess; the moment of impact, the mages were covered in ice, incapacitated, and out of the battle. The next slews of ice were the ones that truly showed her anger. One Khajiit falls prey to being covered in ice while the Nord wasn't so lucky as it was impaled by it. His steel shield proved no defense as the crystal like spear punctures his vitals; from the last few expressions his face let out, one could surmise that it was a slow and agonizing death.

"W-What…? What have I _done_?"

In that small amount of time, this woman was able to wreak havoc that amputated or killed her former captors and here she stands confused and almost frightened at what she had just accomplished. As she stands there staring at her hands with a trembling demeanor, it's more than obvious that perhaps murder isn't part of what she is used to doing… Though she better gain some sort of stomach for the onslaught she just accomplished because Gilaro and his remaining men are still hanging on to the thread of hope that they can win this. As this woman is engulfed in what seems to be her _guilt_, the last two mages project a wave of lightning that is aimed right at her with the obvious intent of neutralizing her usage of her magicka. Now's my time to move. I have remained like a statue for too long; staring at her… enamored by her… Running right at her side, I summon Spellbreaker and shield her from the spell.

"I don't know who you are or how you are able to manipulate that kind of destruction magic," the sound of lightning that hit my shield still cracks as I speak to her, "but I suggest you keep doing it or stand aside so you're not a target."

Not waiting for her reaction, I dismiss Spellbreaker and take Muramasa with both hands as I rush towards Gilaro and his remaining fellow mage. They respond quickly and start hurling destruction spells at my direction. Flame. Lightning. Frost. A myriad of magical display in all forms barrage me; some I deflect while most I evade, letting the projectiles and runes lay dormant and useless. When in range, I make for a chance to end the one who fights with Gilaro, but he seems to have the notion that a bound sword in hand would be a great way to engage me. I smirk as he lunges forward with a stab and I quickly shift to the right, evading his attack and without so much of a thought I counterattack by plunging Muramasa right through his back. A gurgling sound comes out of the mage as I keep my eyes on Gilaro as I pull out Muramasa. His last mage falls, bloodying the snow, as he dies with his eyes still open.

"You have claimed apathy, Dragonborn," and thus more 'rightful' words comes out of a stranger in regards to me, "this does not concern you! Stay back before The Lord forces you on your knees!"

"What I claim or what I do does not concern you,"Gilaro's eyes narrow as I spoke, "Just like your _Lord_ doesn't concern me."

"Fool! He will destroy you!"

I wanted to respond kindly with something to the sense of: '_so many have tried and so many have failed_' but Gilaro attacks with a fireball that quickly demanded a physical reaction not a vocal one. I make my way towards him but with the caliber of spells he is releasing, he does an adequate job keeping the distance between us. While I move with some urgency, detaining this Dunmer is my main priority so perhaps tiring him down will be the proper tactic. Amidst all the fray of destruction spells, I manage to take a quick glimpse of the woman who I assumed was dealing with the last of the hired mercenaries; _that was my assumption_ but that thought is quickly refuted as I notice a large snow like creature smashing a swordsman with its giant fist. The woman, who is obviously the one who summoned this beast, has that same expression in her face from the sight of blood. From the look of things, the ice like creature she created had already laid waste to the remaining archers… looks like the battle is over. Not wanting to truly hurt Gilaro yet, I release a shout, summoning a cyclone that sows through his magic and finally causes him to stumble and fall on his front. A weaker mage would probably be hurled some distance away but luckily he has proper protection, for the most part. Quickly taking advantage of this, I kick his staff out of reach and use the same foot to kick him on his back. With Muramasa glowing with a crimson shade, I point the blade at his throat; it was at that moment that fear is far more obvious in his face, though I still commend him for keeping a brave front.

"This is bigger than you, Dragonborn."

I ease my blade closer to his throat as I ignore his words. "Gilaro, is it? Tell me something I don't know that is actually going to amuse me before I feed your soul to Azura's star. And please, do try to throw a spell at me," if only he could see the smirk under the Masque, "I'd really appreciate it."

"I will tell you that the Snow Queen shall be your _failure_."

With those words spoken I feel thundering steps coming my way and with the time I have I move out of the way, flipping backwards on the ground before I get back on my feet. I already knew that the creature that the woman summoned will be after Gilaro and the sight of it grabbing the Dunmer and crushing him in its massive hand is something that I expected as well. Bones cracked and shattered and Gilaro screams in agony; with his deathly howls still reverberating, the creature slammed him into the ground, which ends his protests.

"_STOP!_"

I slightly turn my head towards her as she pitifully reaches out towards the creature from a distance. Though by now it is already taking the lifeless Dunmer on its second impact on the ground that causes the woman to turn away in fright and disgust. I watch the scene as the beast continues to beat the corpse into a pulp; its snowy fist now drenched in blood and most likely other body remnants of the Dunmer. I have seen visceral things like this far too often and it is a norm in Skyrim… though this creature… it's foreign; it is no atronach. It might resemble a frost atronach but with its body dominant of snow instead of ice, one can certainly point out the difference; that and it has a face… an almost humanoid face that shows a raging expression with each pound of its fist on the ground. When the pounding stopped, it lets whatever solid residues of Gilaro slide off its hands before turning its attention on me. It only takes a moment before it repositions its stance so that it may concur with the violent howl that it lets off. Spikes of ice protrude from its back and its bloody fingers also produce the same sharp ice as it takes a step towards me.

"Tell it to stop," I hold my blade as it gains another step towards me. "Now!"

"Can't you see," her voice mirroring the worried expression on her face. "I'm trying!"

Her effort isn't coming out very eloquently since her creation is now trying fervently to pummel me. I evade one punch too many before I decide that it will be up to me to remedy this catastrophe of a conjuration. It may not be a familiar Frost Atronach but it's still a creature made out of the same element so with that said, I release the Thu'um that adheres to the damage fire can perform. As the flames cover its colossal form, it shrieks in pain and stumbles back; every step causing its solid body to melt and it doesn't take more than four steps until it falls apart. As it succumbs to its liquid, it lets out one pitiful cry that almost signifies its _'death'_. Soon its ability to speak melts along with the rest of it, leaving only a pile of snow that is barely half of what it was… the rest is now a puddle of water.

It takes a few moments after the giant snow creature melted until the elation of battle leaves my body. Within those moments, I ponder about what Gilaro was saying and if the skirmish really had significance aside from just the normal slave trade. Royalty are captured and held for a higher ransom is normal… but this woman... Speaking of which, I turn towards her and catch a sight of her on her knees sobbing. Her face buried in one of her hands as she deals with the aftermath in her own way.

"Muramasa," I whisper to my blade as I hold it up and observe its crimson glow, "is your thirst sated for today, my friend?"

I find myself talking to this _loyal_ companion far more often than I talk to Arvak. Shrugging my shoulders, I sheathe the blade and decide to see if this woman can at least tell me something.

"The battle is over and your captors are dead," I speak with a low tone. "You're going to be okay."

She responds with a few more sobs before finally lifting her head out of her hand as she looks up towards me with grief. Tears pouring profusely from her icy blue eyes as she stares up at me, almost as if she is analyzing me. I reciprocate the gesture of staring before she turns away back to her hand and continues to cry. I sigh.

"If I were you, I'd dry those tears and realize how fortunate you are."

"Fortunate?!" Her response more than insinuates that I struck the wrong nerve. "They massacred good people who were protecting me! They kidnapped me and were planning on doing something horrible to me!"

"They won't be doing those things anymore. As for your people, don't let their death be in vain by wallowing in your grief."

Then that burst of cold energy shot through my veins and for obvious reasons: the woman suddenly omits a snowstorm that surrounds her like some sort of shield. While the winds are ferocious and I find myself on alert, it isn't something that can truly do me harm, though her standing up with a very angered expression written in her face does insinuate that there might be more physical altercation coming my way.

"Have you no sympathy?!" With narrowed eyes and fists clenched tightly, the storm that surrounds her starts to somewhat bother my stance.

"This is destruction magic that I have never seen before," I reply without really replying to her last words. "What are you? And how did you learn to do the things that you do?"

As I suspected, my words didn't exactly do anything to calm her down nor entice to her respond; in fact she does the opposite and her powers erupt even more as shards of ice erects from the ground that originates from where she stands. I mildly give attention to the violent show of her powers as I keep my eyes locked on her.

"The Snow Queen, is it? What does that entail? And forgive me but I can't quite tell what you are. Altmer? Breton? Nord? Obviously you aren't Argonian or Orc. Unless of course you are half and the visually pleasing parent had more dominance to your visage."

"What are you talking about?!" Tears are still pouring from her eyes as she speaks with an angry tone. "People just died! The ones you just nonchalantly killed murdered good people under my rule!"

"Take solace in the fact that the ones who did you wrong are now dead," despite the few groans from the dying mercenaries, I think I've proven my point. "Your people can rest in peace."

"How dare you!" More ice starts to form into spikes all around me as my words continue to infuriate her. "You think that there is some sort of retribution from the mindless bloodshed that has been done here?!"

I remain as still as I can, staring at her, studying her …. Is it the powers she demonstrates that keep my eyes locked on her? Or is it the naïve words that she is sprouting out? I shake my head at myself and decide that I am wasting my time.

"Your ship still stands," I say to her, "since you are royalty, I'm sure you can hire more than enough men to help you go back to your land. If the death of your captors do not satisfy you, then there is nothing else for you here."

My curiosity won't get the best out of me here. Intriguing she might be but she isn't worth another moment of conversation. While part of me worries about how she will go about hiring those people with such… _innocence_, I do think that wherever she is from, with the proper man power to delegate, she can get out of Skyrim. Again accumulating those said manpower without being taken advantage of is another story altogether. Regardless, that is not my story, it is hers and with that said in thought, I make my first steps to turn away and prepare to summon Arvak. I take one last moment to glance at her and she seems to have no intention of stopping me_; that's good news_.

"In your own way," then the moment I turned my back, she starts speaking, "you're just as evil as they are. The difference is, you're powerful."

_Evil_, _powerful, _and _difference_; those words together when I'm in the sentence is always amusing. I let out a short chuckle almost immediately after she said those words. My, that statement can lead to more than enough forks in the road to what I could say in return. I turn around to retort but the black mists rose from my armor and engulfs me again, which makes this woman flinch back in fear that I was about to do something. I look to the sky and not too long after I do, the ear-piercing shout of a dragon echoes within the cloudy skies. The woman scans the open air frantically, completely looking like the part of a living being who has never heard a dragon shout before.

"Too close for it to just be passing by," my hand finds itself on the hilt of my blade. "If I were to make an assumption, this one is going to cause a scene."

"What… in heavens is that…?"

Her eyes wide from uncertainty and a whole lot of fear. By now I pull out Muramasa and prepare; the act of me drawing my blade doesn't do anything to settle her dread, as it shouldn't.

"As of right now, your Majesty," sarcasm in my tone, "This powerful evil person is the only thing that will keep you alive from a dragon."

"Dragon?"

Even the word seems foreign to her and that makes me smirk even more. "Don't tell me that you're oblivious to their existence as well?"

Regardless of the fact if she hasn't heard of them before, now would be the time to truly get acquainted with their existence. From the direction where the vastness of the ocean takes over, where the thick mist blankets whatever is out there, the familiar face of the creature emerges with its reptilian eyes staring straight at us, and its wings in full span as it lets out a bellowing cry. Oddly enough, it might be the same dragon I was chasing earlier and now it has come to a full circle.

"Heavens…." Fear is potent in her tone as the dragon flies over us.

"Get used to it, your Majesty. It's about to land. Which means you're about to get a face to face interaction with Skyrim's most hazardous native."

It spends a flap or two going the opposite direction before adjusting its course so that it would face us again. Letting out another shout, it descends and within a few minutes, it lands; the ground below us shakes, debris floating everywhere, and by the time it fully gets its' grounds, the dragon poises itself up and like many of its kin before, it lets out a roar to indicate that its presence should be feared. The woman covers her ears as she takes a few steps back while I stay where I am, ready for the moment when it will attack. Though in that moment, I find my eyes wandering back at the distraught woman who is staggering backwards with fear mixed in her every step. Though I have seen dread due to a dragon before, this is different; it truly does seem like this is the first time she has seen one or even know of its existence. With powers like that, she stands a chance but…

**_It shouts_**.

There I am again spending too much time studying this girl and now it lets out its breath that consists of deadly ice cold fire; frost dragon. The trajectory of its attack is too wide and evasion would not be prudent; considering I spent too much time in other thoughts, I have one option for the moment: I summon Spellbreaker. The enchanted shield immediately forms in front of me and its' ward deters the attack from truly hitting me. As soon as the attack stops, I retract my shield and make my way to counter.

_The woman_….

I give a slight turn of my head towards her direction as I rush forward; nothing but a wall of ice… A wall of ice… It makes sense but as to why it does is still lost on me. They call her the Snow Queen and from what I have seen, she can manipulate ice and snow so fitting is that name that. Still…

_Back to the battle ahead of me._

The creature is still recovering from such a strained attack so it gives me more than enough time to gain the proximity that I need to get in close. With a running momentum behind my swing, Muramasa cuts through the side of its jaw letting it cry out in a painful howl before shrugging it off and attacking back. The lunge of its head is quickly evaded as its snapping jaws hit nothing but air; once again the moment is mine and I bring my blade down and accomplishing a deep cut on the back of its neck; if I would've gone further, it probably could've been an easy beheading. Regardless it felt the pain and it shuffled back with a wailing cry. Despite the agony, the dragon uses its wing as a means to attack by slamming it down; I push back, avoiding its attempt to smash me before I lunge forward again for another strike. Though before I was able to, a wave of ice starts hitting the beast and looking back behind me, the woman is attempting her spells on the dragon. I would commend the valor but…

"Woman! It's a frost dragon! Your element of choice will only agitate it!"

She immediately ceased her attack and looked at me with an appalled expression. Of course I had very little to mind that look as the dragon is now retaliating from my attacks and her means of 'tickling' it. The cold fire erupts from the mouth again and I run fervently to the woman's side, and using Spellbreaker's power to ward off the attack once again.

"Right behind us," I shout as loud as I can so that she can hear me, "there's a cave there! Stay in there until I slay this dragon!"

Her response is a silent fear treatment as she takes a quick glance towards the direction of Brinewater Grotto and then back at me. While I can't honestly say that the said cave is safe; gods know what lingers there now, but honestly, anything for her is better than this dragon.

"Stop standing around! Go!"

With the harsh demand in my tone she finally complies. Lifting her dress so that running won't end up with her stumbling over, she makes her way to the cave with urgency in every step. Heels… why would you choose high heels in an erratic situation like a fight? Regardless, the dragon relents its shout and begins to reinitiate its need for close combat; no more play time, I suppose. I'll be able to hold the dragon long enough so that the woman can find some sort of safety inside Brinewater Grotto. My thought process is that I'll end this quickly due to a certain situation, but the addition of another ear piercing shout that echoes through the sky shoots that thought down. A second dragon. Emerging from the general direction the first dragon came from, this one doesn't waste a moment as it attacks, sending spheres of flame crashing in the direction the woman was trying to go, halting her progress to the cave almost immediately. What makes matters even worse is that before she can even think about dealing with the flames blocking her path, the dragon itself lands on top of the cave, perching itself as if guarding a wall with a word of power.

"Oh in the name of Boethiah!"

It's been a while since I found myself agitated at a situation like this. Two dragons is a rare commodity and usually entertaining but now it has become dire; not for my sake but for hers. Part of me truly just wants to let her be and see how she deals with that dragon but… the other part is telling me to not be so _unsympathetic; _Odd. Sheathing Muramasa for a moment, I conjure flaming familiars one after another and letting them explode on the dragon before summoning my flame atronach: Elle-Auria. She won't hold the frost dragon very long but it would be enough time for me to distribute my attention to the other dragon who is now unleashing a shout. The woman surprisingly reacts by using her ice powers to try and repel the fire; have to admit, she's doing an adequate job for the moment but one can tell that it's far too strenuous for her. Time to step in.

I let loose my voice of frost and aid the woman push the fire back. Admittedly with two force of the opposing element working together make this tactic easier. Then again, when was the last time I met a mage try to counter a dragon's shout? Deepening my stance and calling forth on the third word, I complete the shout and the dragon's fire is relieved for the moment as it staggers from its perched position before taking to the air to regain its bearings.

"Thank you…" she says to me with an exhausted tone.

"It's too early for gratitude, Snow Queen."

I'm not lying either since both dragons are still very much alive. Every moment counts for even the weakest of dragons can cause me my life. By now the frost dragon have depleted the atronach and the one in flight is already omitting its flames which forces me to jump out of the way, rolling on the snow before being able to get back on my feet. The woman however doesn't have agility in her favor and she stumbles on the ground, landing on all fours but miraculously evaded the attack. The frost dragon saw this and without any time wasted, it drew forth its breath at the woman who is completely unaware of that danger. I tried fervently to reach her in time but the distance between us was too great … but the dragon is mine. With blade drawn, I lunge at the beast who is still preoccupied disintegrating its' victim with its' shout. Ignorant of my coming, I plunge my blade right at its throat. It immediately felt the pain and drew its neck back, bringing me with it as it lets out a painful howl. Regaining my composure from the abrupt movement, I push downward, taking the blade with me and cutting through the dragon's neck and ultimately leaving it to agonize in 'silence'. It falters and eventually falls to its side with me jumping off as it writhes for its last moment. Eventually it will decay, its scales will burn and once again I'll have a soul to absorb. At the cost of that woman's life, the soul of the dragon surrounds me in its whimsical glow; one more beast to slay.

The said beast one is now descending and making its decision to either land or play it long range. I don't necessarily have it in me to play with this beast anymore and I prepare to ground it from flight. Then the familiar cold energy erupts from behind me. Astonished, I give half my attention to where the woman was covered in an ice like tomb… I wanted to question my eyes for deceiving me as the woman is very much alive. Unscathed, alive, and seething with power that mirrors that of a Daedric goddess… Like serpents, the blue energy surrounds her and lets off hissing sounds that insinuates pain if one touches it. Her every step causes the snow to emerge in sharp pillars that could kill if one is standing where they erect. Those eyes that were once peaceful and almost naïve are now glowing orbs that could almost be mistaken as a Draugr Deathlord's eyes: evil, incapable of mercy, and just down right hungry for bloodshed. That dangerous glare is staring right through me and into the dragon who is hovering with a strange curiosity; whatever reaction it was going to make is too late as tendrils of ice forms from the ground and reacts to the woman's hand gestures. An extension of her arms no less, she controls the vine like ice and entangle the dragon's wings, crumpling them, ripping them, until eventually the dragon falls on the ground. Its attempt to get back to its feet is thwarted by more of the same tendrils wrapping around its neck and pulling it down. What makes it worse is that its ability to shout is deterred by its snout forced shut and its head bound to the ground along with the rest of its body.

In all the years I have spent wandering Skryim killing and slaying these beasts, not once have I seen one so desperate for its life. Then again, I don't spend the time with a slow and grueling kill… I play with its' time towards death, though I don't let it bleed to suffer. Though this woman… I observe her as she continues to encumber this beast with her ice tendrils. Like Odahviing when we trapped him in Dragonsreach, this beast has no chance of escape and the woman makes it a point to agonize it…. Her face shows no remorse; her lips slightly curled from an insinuation of pleasure, one brow cocked as if this is amusing beyond belief. With Muramasa in tow, I walk towards the beast and plunge the red blade through its skull; its life quickly slipped away as its eyes draws blank. The moment it dies, the ice that the woman is using to bind it cracks and with that, the woman herself loses composure and falls to the ground, unconscious. The cold air isn't as prominent and no longer piercing through the warmth of my armor; As for the woman, if one looks at her sleeping face, one would question if the sinister visage from earlier was actually her. It takes me longer than normal to sheathe my blade as I walk towards her with ambivalence. I barely feel the dragon's soul entering me as I take a few moments to study the unconscious 'Snow Queen' in front of me. Lowering myself into a crouching position, I can hear her breathing even more; serene and not a care for the cold and unpleasant ground that she is lying down on.

Leave her.

Don't leave her.

Snow Queen…. Gilaro's words about her being my failure… _That vision from the other day when I was in ethereal form_!

I've often associated the symbol as Skyrim. The land I'm bound to; the land who depends on my legend and my prophecy to save it. Akatosh… The Empire… whatever it is, the symbol relates to me far more than I would like to admit. Children who aren't favoring the truth about me wave little flags with that symbol when I walk by them. That image of that woman shattering that symbol... Vague connection but could it be?

I let out an audible sigh before summoning Arvak, "We've got company for the ride."

Wrapping my arms around her back and the bend of her knees, I lift the 'Snow Queen' from the ground and walk towards my undead steed. This may be one of the worst ideas I have ever concocted in my head.

**To Be Continued.**


End file.
